


Shiver

by ThePause



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePause/pseuds/ThePause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blaine comes to Nashville to play a show, Kurt Hummel rushes to get tickets with his friends and hopes for a chance to meet Blaine. When backstage passes are presented to Kurt, he'll find out if Blaine lives up to the fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“OH MY GOD,” Kurt yelled from his small office at BCA Records. “OHHHHHHH MY GOD. FRANKIE GET IN HERE!”

 

Frankie rushed into Kurt’s office, twisting her auburn hair into a loose bun. “This is a place of business, Kurt, please keep your screeches to a dull roar.”

 

“Blaine Anderson is coming. Here. To Nashville. To the Cannery Ballroom. He’s coming here. In June.” Kurt’s eyes were scanning through an email as he hunched over his laptop screen.

 

Blaine Anderson was Kurt’s favorite artist, favorite anything. Kurt first saw Blaine two years ago in New York at a New Artist Showcase for Capitol Records. Kurt was in town doing press with one of his artists and his boyfriend at the time had invited him to the showcase. Kurt was captivated the moment Blaine walked on stage all dark eyes and dark hair and just enough confidence to command the room without being an asshole. Oh, and it didn’t hurt that he oozed sex. Kurt felt like he was cheating on The Boyfriend just from the thoughts running through his head.

 

“Can you believe it, he’s gay,” The Boyfriend had whispered. Kurt felt lightheaded. He’d been a fan ever since.

 

Frankie leaned over his shoulder to read the email. “Why is he coming to the Cannery? Seems like a small venue for someone like him.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, we are going. Tickets go on sale tomorrow,” Kurt said, his voice a pitch higher than normal (which was saying a lot), “and there’s…oh god, there’s a VIP option where you can MEET him.”

 

“How much are VIP tickets?”

 

Kurt whipped around in his desk chair and glared at her. “Obviously that doesn’t matter. It’s Blaine, Frankie. BLAINE.”

 

“Of course it doesn’t matter and of course we’re going, but I’m broke! And it’s fucking GA, Kurt. You know I hate GA shows.”

 

Kurt crossed his arms and glared at her. “Say the thing.”

 

“Please don’t make me.”

 

“Say. It.”

 

Frankie lifted her right hand in the air and rolled her eyes, chanting, “Kurt Hummel is Blaine Anderson’s most dedicated and loyal fan. Anyone who disputes this is an uninformed baffoon. And I, as Kurt Hummel’s very best friend, vow to support him in whatever way necessary when it comes to Blaine Anderson.”

 

“That’s better,” Kurt huffed, turning back around to scroll through the email a fourth time. “I hope we can even get tickets, you know what a bitch Ticketmaster can be.”

 

“I’ll text Bellie and June,” Frankie said, fishing her phone out of her back pocket.

 

Bellie (Annabelle to her professional contacts, Bellie to her friends) worked at a small indie booking agent on music row. Kurt had met her when she’d signed one of his very first artists and they’d been friends ever since. June, a former employee of BCA Records, left three years ago to start her own video production business, but stayed close friends with Kurt, Frankie and Bellie. The four of them were inseparable. 

 

“Bellie says ‘hot’ and June says she can’t wait to see you spontaneously combust in the middle of a bunch of hyperventilating fangirls.”

 

“Right?” Kurt leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “They know he’s gay and yet they practically throw their panties at him whenever he so much as glances in their direction. They write fan fiction about fucking him. Fan fiction! Although is it fan fiction if it’s about yourself and a celebrity?”

 

Frankie smirked, her right eyebrow arched so high it disappeared under her side swept bangs.“You’d throw your panties at him.”

 

“Yes, but honey, I’m gay. I’m supposed to.”

 

 

 

———————-

 

 

Kurt and Frankie, skipping a morning meeting and both manning two different laptops, only managed to get two VIP tickets before the show completely sold out, which meant they didn’t have tickets for Bellie and June.

 

“It has to be you,” Kurt whispered, leaning against Frankie’s cubicle desk with his arms folded. “You know I love June and Bellie more than a Paul Smith sample sale but it _has_ to be you. I can’t meet Blaine Anderson or, oh god, TOUCH him, without you next to me. You’re the only one who truly understands my,” Kurt pursed his lips and waved his hands in the air, “affinity for Blaine.”

 

Frankie grinned and narrowed her eyes at Kurt, the glare from her computer screen reflecting in her Warby Parker frames. “Affinity? Really? Don’t you mean unnatural bloodlust for his luscious ass?”

 

Kurt blanched. “Isn’t that a bit…violent? Even for you? I don’t want to tear the man limb from limb.”

 

“But you do want to punish his tight ass.”

 

“Oh god,” Kurt said, covering his face with his hands.

 

“The point is, of course I’ll be your wingman. Or wingwoman? What’s the right terminology for lesbian best friend who totally gets your insatiable and slightly inappropriate celebrity crush and is fully supportive and wants to see it through to fruition?”

 

“I think that’s called being my Frankie.”

 

“Okay,” she preened, “I’ll be your Frankie.”

 

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘seeing it through to fruition?’”

 

Frankie wiggled her eyebrows as Kurt’s phone buzzed with a new text. “It’s Bellie. She has a friend at The Agency Group who can get Blaine tickets and,” Kurt looked up from his phone, a far away look in his eyes as he whispered, “backstage passes.” Kurt looked at her, eyes wide, “…we could go backstage. We could…could…”

 

Frankie pried Kurt’s phone from his hands and texted back asking how many tickets Bellie could get.

 

“She can get two tickets and two passes,” Frankie said, already running through the scenarios in her head. “If you and I do VIP, you are guaranteed to meet Blaine and get a photo. And we get in early to get a good spot in the front since it’s a fucking GA show. If you take the passes, you might meet him and actually get to hang out with him, but you also may not, you know how those things go.”

 

Kurt’s heart was racing, his hand on his mouth tracing over his bottom lip. “Mmhmm.”

 

“I’m going to tell Bellie to get the tickets and passes and we’ll figure it out,” she said, typing the message quickly into Kurt’s phone and adding, _Kurt has officially lost his shit. This night is going to be epic._

 

 

_———————-_

 

 

The line to get into the Cannery started at the rickety, wooden porch and wound all the way through the parking lot and up to Cummins Station. There were hopeful girls in homemade t-shirts declaring love for Blaine and young boys in their tightest pants trying so hard not look like they were trying so hard. Fans had been lined up since 6am, broiling in the summer sun.

 

Kurt and Frankie walked the length of the line to the front of the venue where VIP ticket holders were supposed to meet. Bellie and June were coming later, promising to find them once they arrived. In the end, Kurt had decided he’d rather have the guarantee of meeting Blaine through the VIP than risk not meeting him in the bustle of backstage.

 

“I think I definitely made the right choice, right?” Kurt asked, as they reached the back of the VIP line. The tour manager came out the front door to address the line through a bullhorn. 

 

“If you’re a VIP ticket holder, stay to the right of the stairwell. We’ll be opening doors in about five minutes. If you’re not a VIP ticket holder, please move to the back of the line where you belong.” Two girls in short, low-cut dresses with their boobs pushed up to their chins stepped out of line in a huff. 

 

“He’s gay,” Kurt hissed as they walked past.

 

“Yeah, but even I can appreciate that he is one sexy motherfucker,” Frankie said, leaning past Kurt to watch the girls walk away. “And yes, you made the right choice.”

 

“I’m going to look like a fan,” Kurt said, smoothing his hands down the sides of his pants. “Maybe I should have used the passes?”

 

“Stop fidgeting, you look amazing.”

 

He’d labored over what to wear, wanting to look hot without looking like he was trying, just like every other gay guy in line. In the end he’d chosen skin tight black jeans with a fitted, red button down patterned with thin stripes of tiny black sparrows. The short sleeves cut just so on his arms, highlighting the definition of his biceps. His chestnut hair, swept up high and dramatic, was perfect.

 

“What’s up with you, you’re turning white,” Frankie said, pulling Kurt out of his thoughts.

 

“I’m nervous.”

 

“You meet artists all the time. It’s your job, in fact? Remember? He’s just another artist. You’ve met people way more famous than this guy.”

 

“I know but…it’s Blaine Anderson. THE Blaine Anderson! I don’t want to look like an idiot.”

 

“When have you ever, in your entire lifetime, looked like an idiot?”

 

The doors opened before Kurt could formulate a response, the line slowly shuffling forward, girls adjusting their clothes and applying more lipgloss. Once inside they were ushered to a table where unenthused hipsters checked them in and distributed tour laminates and wristbands. Normally, Kurt would never go through this process. He’d be backstage or with the artist or would come in right before the show started and stand at the sound booth to watch the show. The whole thing had him on edge. His upper lip was starting to sweat.

 

The line moved at a snail’s pace, snaking through the venue to a side room next to the ballroom. Each slow step forward twisted tighter through Kurt’s stomach.

 

“Kurt, are you okay?” Frankie worried. “I’ve never seen you this…” she motioned from his head to his feet, “undone.” Kurt could only manage to shrug and take another step forward.

 

They rounded the final corner and there he was, or there he almost was, Blaine Anderson. There was a black scrim backdrop set up for photos but Kurt could see Blaine through the thin black sheet, greeting fans and smiling for photos. Kurt’s throat closed up. Blaine greeted each fan with a handshake or a quick hug, posed for a photo and then thanked them for coming. It was all very polite and very cute. Kurt started to panic about what he would say when suddenly a pretty young girl with a clipboard was asking his name.

 

“Ummm, Kurt?” he said, suddenly unsure.

 

“Blaine, this is Kurt,” she announced ushering him around the backdrop and directly into the arms of Blaine Anderson.

 

Blaine hugged him tightly and said his name into his ear, “Kurt,” over-pronouncing the “t” so that Kurt felt a puff of breath on his ear. Blaine pulled back and smiled a friendly, brilliant smile. “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Kurt said, more breath than actual speaking.

 

“It’s so nice to meet you, Kurt. Thank you for coming to my show!” Blaine’s hands were on Kurt’s biceps, his intentionally showcased biceps, and he was rubbing his thumbs slowly over Kurt’s skin. He was shorter than Kurt, but not too short, wearing grey skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. His black curly hair was tousled the exact right amount and his eyes, up close, were a mesmerizing whiskey brown with tiny flecks of green. He was looking Kurt right in the eye and smiling so wide. Kurt was struck dumb. 

 

Someone asked them to turn for the photo. “Oh yeah, the photo,” Blaine laughed, turning Kurt towards the camera and looping an arm around his waist. Kurt wasn’t sure if he smiled, wasn’t sure if he said anything stupid, wasn’t sure if he was still inhabiting his body.

 

“So, Kurt,” Blaine said, turning Kurt back towards him and grabbing his hands between them, “I hope you enjoy the show?”

 

A pause. “Yeah,” Kurt squeaked out.

 

“Yeah,” Blaine said, smiling again and pulling Kurt into a tight embrace. And then. “You look fucking amazing.” Right into Kurt’s ear. Right into Kurt’s ear while he squeezed his arms around Kurt’s chest. And he hummed. Kurt could swear he hummed.

 

And then just as quickly as it started, it was over.

 

 

———————-

 

 

“Kurt, what the hell just happened?” Frankie said, pulling him to the front of the stage where the other VIP ticket holders were waiting. “It looked like you two were…lingering. And he kept whispering in your ear, what was he saying?”

 

Kurt looked at her and shook his head back and forth. “I don’t…know? He just…said my name?”

 

“It had to have been more than that. And he couldn’t stop hugging you! He didn’t do that to anyone else, definitely didn’t do it to me.” Her eyes were wide and she was bouncing up and down. “Are you losing your shit right now? Oh my god, Kurt!”

 

Kurt couldn’t respond, could only replay Blaine’s words in his mind. He grabbed Frankie by her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, “He said I look amazing.”

 

“HE WHAT!!”

 

Two girls in matching Blaine shirts turned around and glared.

 

“I’m sure,” Kurt said, waiting for the girls to turn back around, “I’m sure he says stuff like that to everyone. You know how flirty artists can be with fans. And I’ve heard that about him, that he’s very flirty. I’m sure it’s just part of his schtick.”

 

“He didn't tell me I look amazing. He didn’t hug me three times.”

 

“Two times. And his exact words were _you look fucking amazing_.”

 

“Holy shit, Kurt! Blaine Anderson thinks you’re a hot piece of ass!”

 

Kurt covered her mouth with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t possible, wasn’t even remotely plausible, that Blaine Anderson would notice him. Right?

 

“It’s totally possible,” Frankie said, moving his hand away from her mouth, “and in fact, just happened.”

 

Kurt opened his eyes, realizing his private thoughts had managed to pop right out of his mouth, and full on giggled. Like a crazed hyena.

 

Frankie laughed and pulled out her phone to text Bellie and June. _Where the hell are you guys? Kurt is having a fangirl meltdown and I need backup._

 

 

———————-

 

 

The show was everything Kurt hoped it would be. He and Frankie were three rows back, center stage, right in front of Blaine. The venue was packed with bodies, the temperature soaring, but Blaine never relented. He sang old indie fan favorites and covers and new songs and hits from his latest album. Kurt was euphoric, singing along to every song, sweating his ass off, and watching Blaine. Kurt never took his eyes off of Blaine. 

 

“He keeps looking at you,” Frankie shouted over the screams of the crowd at the end of a song. Kurt laughed and shook his head no, keeping his eyes on Blaine. Because no way Blaine was looking at him.

 

“Is everybody having a good time,” Blaine growled into the microphone, the crowd erupting into screams and cheers. Blaine put his hand over the microphone and turned to talk to his band. The band nodded yes as Blaine turned back around, smiling. “We’re gonna venture a little bit off the set list if that’s okay with you.”

 

A girl next to Kurt screamed, “You do you, baby!”

 

“I’ll do you,” another girl screamed.

 

Blaine took off his acoustic guitar and pulled an electric guitar from the stand. “One of my favorite bands, Walk The Moon, has an amazing song that I’d like to play for you now. It’s about seeing someone, touching someone, and feeling that undeniable chemistry,” Blaine said, looking directly at Kurt. He couldn’t deny it this time, Blaine was staring right at him, a sly grin on his face as the opening guitar chords started. “This is called Shiver.”

 

Frankie grabbed Kurt and shook him. “HOLY FUCK, KURT!”

 

Kurt smiled, holding Blaine’s gaze, an electric current running through his body as Blaine started to sing.

 

 

———————-

 

 

 

Kurt and Frankie found the girls by the sound booth after the show. 

 

“We tried to find you guys but the crowd was insane! And I can never get any reception in this building” Bellie said, hugging them both. “Blaine was amazing! Wasn’t he amazing? Did you get to meet him? Do you have the photo? Tell me everything!!”

 

Kurt felt weightless, floating on the excitement of the show, the words Blaine whispered in his ear, the intensity of his gaze. “Tonight was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect.”

 

“Yes, we met him,” Frankie interrupted. “He pawed all over Kurt and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. And then he stared at him for most of the show.”

 

“Holy shit, is that true?” Bellie shouted, grabbing Kurt around the waist.

 

“It’s based in truth, but I wouldn’t say he _pawed all over me_. He was nice. Perfect. He was perfect.”

 

“Yes, you keep saying that. How do you explain the song?” Frankie said, pointing a finger in his face.

 

“What song?” Bellie asked. “What song??”

 

Kurt shook his head as Frankie continued. “The Walk The Moon cover. He sang it. To Kurt. Stared right at him the entire song.”

 

“NO! WAY! I did notice he seemed distracted during that song but I couldn’t see what he was looking at. Are you serious?”

 

Frankie nodded and Kurt blushed. “We were standing right in front, right in his eye line. He wasn’t singing it to _me_ , that’s ridiculous.”

 

“Where’s June?” Frankie asked.

 

Bellie motioned to the sound booth where June was tossing her hair and chatting up the lighting guy. “Apparently she knows him from the Sam Smith show? She made out with him?”

 

“Always making out with the lighting guy,” Frankie laughed. “June! Get over here!”

 

June said her good-byes and bounced over to the group. “Kurt!” she squealed, “was it everything you hoped it would be? I thought he was so great, so sexy! I was super impressed!”

 

“Yes,” Kurt grinned, his cheeks sore from smiling all night, “best night ever! I feel like it went by so fast…I wish it wasn’t over.”

 

“It’s not over,” June said, waving two All Access passes in front of Kurt’s face. “Go talk to him.”


	2. Chapter Two

“No way,” Kurt said, backing away from June. “I can’t.”

 

Every fantasy Kurt ever had about Blaine Anderson came rushing back; sitting next to Blaine on a plane and they start talking, running into Blaine at a show and they start talking, going to an industry event and running into Blaine and they start talking. In every fantasy he and Blaine have immediate chemistry, talk for hours and, because it’s a fantasy, eventually end up in Blaine’s hotel room doing dirty things to each other. But those were fantasies, not aspirations. Now that he had the opportunity to actually talk to Blaine, to find out if they had really did have chemistry, he couldn’t do it.

 

“Kurt, these passes are still good and you _know_ how to work a backstage. Go talk to him.”

 

All three girls were staring at Kurt like he’d lost his mind. Here was his chance, the thing he’d dreamed about for so long, and he was frozen. “But I’ve already met him. In the _fan_ line. I’ll look like a stalker.” _And there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my shit together_ , he thought.

 

“I’ll go with you,” June said, grabbing his hand. “He’s already met me. I can say you’re the one I was talking to him about! Come on…”

 

“GO,” Frankie insisted as Bellie pushed him towards the exit.

 

Kurt allowed June to pull him along, still muttering that it wasn’t a good idea, he was going to look like a crazy fan, they shouldn’t be doing this. They walked past the bar and around the corner to the backstage entrance. A large, bored man in a black polo with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth stopped them as June flashed the passes. 

 

“You have to wear those,” he grumbled.

 

“No problem,” June chirped, peeling off the backing and smacking the vinyl sticker onto Kurt’s shirt. It was a photo of Blaine with the tour name and date on it. 

 

“Oh good, now I’m wearing his face. That’s not weird at all.”

 

“Shut-up and come on.”

 

Together they stepped over cables and shimmied past guitar amps to make it to the narrow staircase leading down to the basement dressing rooms. Kurt had been down there numerous times with dozens of artists, but this time was different. This time his palms were sweating and his knees were trembling. What the hell was he supposed to say to Blaine Anderson?

 

June walked into the green room, Kurt trailing behind her. It was a tiny room, not nearly big enough for the amount of people in it, and one entire wall was taken up with a long folding table covered in alcohol.

 

A small, cheery man walked over to them, plastic cup in hand. “Hey…June, right?”

 

“That’s right, hi! This is Kurt Hummel. He works on the marketing team at BCA. Kurt, this is Tec Collins, Blaine’s manager.”

 

“Oh, amazing,” Tec said, reaching out to shake Kurt’s hand, “You guys are doing great things at BCA. I saw that one band, The Filters?” Kurt nodded. “Yeah, I saw them on Fallon. So great.”

 

“Thank you. Nice to meet you,” Kurt said, hoping Tec didn’t notice the clamminess of his hand. “I really enjoyed the show.”

 

“Yeah? I’m glad to hear that, especially from someone in the industry. He worked really hard to get all the elements right for this tour.”

 

“Where is he?” June cut in, making Kurt’s cheeks burn.

 

“He’s got another round of VIPs to meet. Fucking brutal, I don’t know how he does it night after night. He meets tons of people before every show, sings his ass off, and then does even more meet and greets. He’s a fucking machine.”

 

“Probably good for him to blow off steam once that’s all done, huh?” June was pressing. Kurt wanted to melt into the stained, concrete floor.

 

“Exactly,” Tec said, raising his cup and gulping the last of his drink. “Help yourselves to anything. The promoter got the good tequila!”

 

“Sure, thanks,” June said, waving as Tec moved to speak to other people in the room.

 

“Are you insane,” Kurt whisper shouted. “You practically asked him to go out with us.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

 

“You…can’t.” The color was slowly draining from Kurt’s face.

 

“Why not? We’re music people! We know the best places to go! And he said Blaine’s going to need to blow off steam…we can help him do that.”

 

“June, I can’t…”

 

June shushed him as Tec wandered back over, his cup refilled. “Hey, you guys would know. Blaine wants to go to an authentic Nashville honkey tonk tonight.”

 

June smiled and cut her eyes at Kurt. “We can definitely help you out.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

“And then what happened?”

 

June was recounting the green room events to the girls as they walked out to meet the Uber.

 

“He asked for my number. He’s going to text me when they’re done and meet up with us.”

 

“HOLY SHIT!” Frankie yelled, “Kurt are you dying right now?”

 

“A) It’s never going to happen, he was just being polite and B) It’s never going to happen,” Kurt said, peeling the backstage pass off his shirt. “Let’s just revel in the fact that I got to meet Blaine and the show was fantastic and go get a drink.”

 

The girls continued talking about the possibility of meeting up with Blaine while Kurt stared at the wrinkled image of Blaine from the  All Access sticker. What if Blaine and his manager actually _did_ meet up with them? What would he say? What would he do? Would Blaine remember him from the fan meet and greet? Would he be creeped out?

 

“Kurt, focus,” June said, snapping in his face. “Robert’s?”

 

“They aren’t going to meet us,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Kurt,” Frankie groaned, “it won’t hurt for us to get a drink at Robert’s. If it just so happens that Tec texts June and we just so happen to be at a famous Nashville honky tonk, all the better!”

 

“But I’m all sweaty and my hair-”

 

“Your hair is fine, you look perfect. You always look perfect,” June said, reaching up to touch his hair.

 

Kurt slapped her hand away, “You know the rules. Never. Touch. The hair.”

 

“Aha,” Frankie laughed, pointing at Kurt, “there’s the sassy bitch we know and love.”

 

“Haha, very funny,” Kurt deadpanned. “And fine, we’ll go to Robert’s. Even though nothing is going to happen.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

The girls were half-drunk and twirling on the dance floor when June checked her phone. Kurt was in the back, leaning against the bar with most of his gin and tonic still swirling in his glass when June came running through the crowd. “They’re coming! Kurt, he’s on his way!”

 

Kurt’s mouth fell open. “No.”

 

“YES! Tec texted me and they are coming here right now! Blaine’s coming!!!!” June smacked him on the ass and ran back up to the dance floor. The band was playing Hank Williams Jr. and the crowd was appropriately enthused. Kurt started to sweat and gulped down the rest of his drink. He turned around and set his glass down on the bar and closed his eyes. _Pull it together, Hummel. He’s just another artist. This is not a big deal. You do this for a living. He is not fantasy Blaine, he’s a person. Just talk to him like you would any other artist._

 

Kurtwas still murmuring to himself with his eyes closed when he felt a warm hand on his back. Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine Fucking Anderson grinning right in his face.

 

“Hi.”

 

“How’d you get here so fast?” Kurt could have kicked himself the moment the words flew out of his mouth.

 

“Should I got out and come back in again?” Blaine laughed.

 

Kurt shook his head, humiliated. “No, no, sorry. Ignore me.”

 

“I’d rather not,” Blaine said, his face so close, his eyes so close, lips so close. “You’re Kurt, right?”

 

“Yes?” Blaine quirked an eyebrow, smiling. “I mean, yes, I’m Kurt.”

 

“I have a small confession. My manager told me about meeting you and your friend after the show and I thought to myself, _It couldn’t possibly be the same gorgeous guy I met during the meet and greet_. And yet here you are.”

 

“You remember that, huh?” Kurt said, hanging his head down, embarrassed. “I don’t normally do that, go through a VIP line, but I really wanted to meet you.” He bit his bottom lip. “I probably shouldn’t have admitted that?”

 

“No, no,” Blaine laughed, “I’m so glad you did otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.” Blaine smiled his wide, blinding smile, a smile Kurt had seen in thousands of photos and videos, and rubbed his hand across Kurt’s back. “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

“Oh, you don’t need to do-”

 

“I want to.” He was looking right into Kurt’s eyes and Kurt felt the breath leave his body. At the meet and greet, he hadn’t been able to really look at Blaine. He’d been too nervous, too rushed, too everything. But now, here, everything slowed down. Now he could see the curve of Blaine’s eyelashes and the plump pout of his bottom lip. He could see three black curls wrapped around the top of Blaine’s ear. He could see Blaine’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed and oh, Blaine was watching him, too.

 

“I…” Kurt was losing ground fast. He knew his cheeks were red and he’d already made an ass of himself. Might as well go all the way. “I’d love a gin and tonic?”

 

Blaine smoothed his hand down Kurt’s arm and turned to motion to the bartender. Kurt watched the way the words fell out of Blaine’s mouth, watched his hands grip the weathered wood of the bar top. 

 

Blaine turned back towards him, his body inches away. They were standing between two bar stools, barely enough space for one person. Kurt could feel the heat from Blaine’s body, could feel Blaine’s knees and his hip and he was definitely not going to survive this. 

 

“The show was amazing,” Kurt said, attempting to sound casual.

 

“Thanks,” Blaine said, his voice low.

 

“Oh, you probably need to save your voice! We don’t have to talk if you don’t-”

 

“I want to talk to you,” Blaine whispered, leaning in even closer, “I just shouldn’t be shouting over the crowd noise.”

 

Their drinks arrived and Kurt felt grateful to have something to do with his hands. “Do you use a vocal coach?” Kurt asked. “I mean, not that you need work on your voice, it’s amazing, I just know that it can be really helpful for learning how to preserve your voice and keep it healthy during a long tour and I work for a record label here in Nashville and we use someone really great if you needed a recommendation I could get you her name she’s the best.” Kurt blurted out the entire speech in one long sentence. Blaine was watching him, smiling, sipping his drink.

 

He leaned impossibly closer, speaking softly into Kurt’s ear, “I do use a vocal coach. I have this whole regimen I do every day when I’m touring. I take a shit load of vitamins and do vocal exercises and I steam every morning.”

 

“Oh, good, that’s….good.”

 

Blaine set his glass down on the bar and took Kurt’s and set it down. “I’m going to show you something, don’t freak out, okay? Sometimes this freaks people out.”

 

Kurt’s hands fell to his sides, “Okay.” He felt out of his body, as if the entire scenario was happening to someone else and he was hearing it re-told, his imagination filling in the blanks.

 

Blaine raised his hands next to Kurt’s face and smiled a smile that went from his hairline to his shoulders. He then slowly, carefully, slid his hands up Kurt’s jaw, his fingertips sliding into Kurt’s hair. He softly pressed his thumbs against Kurt’s ears and leaned in, his nose brushing against Kurt. He spoke in the quietest possible voice, “Can you hear me, Kurt?” It was as if the room was empty and Blaine was speaking in a full voice.

 

Kurt nodded his head, a fraction of a yes, his entire body hyper-focused on Blaine’s closeness, his hands on his face and in his hair. 

 

“If you do this,” Blaine said, his fingers scratching the tiniest bit through Kurt’s hair, “even in a crowded room, you can clearly hear what I’m saying. Amazing isn’t it?”

 

Blaine pulled back, his fingers tracing down Kurt’s jaw. Kurt cleared his throat and reached for his drink. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He had never been so tongue-tied, never been so captivated by a total stranger.  Of course, that wasn’t true, he knew all about Blaine. He knew his birthday and his middle name and how he got into music and his brother’s name. But he didn’t know him.

 

“How do you do it, meet so many people every night? None of my artists would ever take the time to meet that many people before and after every show.”

 

“Oh, I love it. In fact, I insist on it. The only reason I have a career is because of people who care about my music. I love meeting them and saying thank you.”

 

“But you make yourself so accessible. Aren’t there crazy fans who want to take advantage?”

 

“Sometimes,” Blaine grinned. “Like tonight…this girl came through the line and I immediately knew what she wanted. She walked right up to me, totally confident, and said, ‘My husband and I each have a Top 5 celebrity list and you’re on mine. He’s knows I’m here and I have permission…so…’”

 

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”

 

“I told her thank you but no thank you.”

 

“Doesn’t she know you’re gay?”

 

Blaine leaned closer, which seemed impossible given how close they already were, and licked his lips. Kurt felt himself growing hard in his black skinny jeans. “I guess,” Blaine said, voice soft and eyes soft and fingertips so fucking soft on Kurt’s elbow, “she didn’t care. She just wanted to fuck me.

 

“Does that,” Kurt swallowed, his mouth dry, “does that happen a lot?”

 

“It happens,” Blaine said, tilting his head to the side, his body now pressed into Kurt’s.

 

“Does it ever,” Kurt closed his eyes, his dick pressed into Blaine’s thigh, “do you ever…”

 

“Kurt! You’ve got to come dance with us!” It was Bellie. She was drunk and shouting into Kurt’s ear, oblivious to the closeness between he and Blaine. “You’re Blaine. I’m Annabelle. You’re cute,” she said, throwing her arm around Blaine’s shoulder and giggling in his ear.

 

“Hi Annabelle,” he smiled, “looks like you’re having a good time?”

 

Blaine shifted away from Kurt. It wasn’t enough to notice, but Kurt noticed.

 

“I AM having a good time,” Bellie squealed, “come dance with us! Oh look! There’s June….JUNE!!!!” Bellie jumped up and down, motioning for June who came bouncing towards them.

 

“Heyyyyyy! Having fun? Blaine, you and I met briefly before the show. I’m June.”

 

“I remember, good to see you again.”

 

“You guys should come and dance with us,” she smiled, winking at Kurt. Blaine was now facing away from Kurt, the heat of the moment gone.

 

“Thanks, but Kurt and I are having a good time back here, aren’t we, Kurt?” Blaine turned his head to catch Kurt’s eye.

 

“Oh right, Kurt!” Bellie yelled, kissing Kurt’s cheek. “He’s obsessed with you, you know. Like,” she raised her hands in the air, spilling some of her drink on the floor, “obsessed.”

 

“Bellie!” Kurt screeched, “why don’t you and June go back up front and we’ll join you in a minute, okay?”

 

Kurt pushed them on their way and turned back around to face Blaine. “I’m sorry about her. She loves her Fireball!”

 

Blaine pulled Kurt back to him, pressing them together between the bar stools. “Where were we?” he said, speaking directly into Kurt’s ear, his lips brushing Kurt’s skin, his hand on Kurt’s hip. “Or more importantly, where should we be going?” Blaine’s hand reached around to grab Kurt’s ass.

 

“Oh,” Kurt said, his brain snapping back to reality. Things were moving in entirely the wrong direction. Fantasies aside, he didn’t want to be some conquest, didn’t want to be a notch on an artist’s bedpost. He’d seen countless fans give in to the desire, the fantasy, allow themselves to be someone else for just one night. It never ended well. “Please don’t be that guy.” Blaine’s thigh was still pressed up against him again. 

 

“What guy?” Blaine grinned, kissing Kurt’s jaw.

 

Kurt pulled away. “The douchey guy who sleeps with fans.”

 

Blaine stood up straighter, putting some space between them. “I’m not. Kurt, that’s not-”

 

“Look, you’re incredible, which I realize is no surprise to you, but I know how this works. You find someone at every show, someone like me who clearly has a thing for you, and you flirt with them and buy them a drink and do the whisper-in-the-ear trick and holy shit, it _works_. God knows I’ve fantasized about it enough times. And now it’s happening and it’s you and you’re all up on me and grabbing my ass and, fuck, Blaine, it’s all too much.”

 

“Kurt, please let me explain, I’m not…”

 

“It’s okay, really. Trust me, all of my artists do it. Hell, I’d probably do it if I were you. And even though the idea of being desired by Blaine Anderson makes my toes curl it’s so insanely hot, I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Kurt stared at him for a moment, attempting to memorize his face. To capture this moment he would never get back. “I’m gonna go.”

 

“Wait, don’t go. Have another drink with me.”

 

“It’s okay, Blaine, seriously. I’m so happy I got to meet you and see your show. Thanks again, tonight was a dream come true.” 

 

Kurt peeled himself out of the small space between Blaine and the bar stools and made his way through the crowd to the dance floor at the front of the bar. Bellie and June were dancing with Blaine’s manager and Frankie was talking to a tall blonde woman. Her caught her eye and she walked over to him. 

 

“Let’s go. Can we go?”

 

Frankie could read the look in Kurt’s eyes and pulled him towards the door, grabbing Bellie and June along the way. “Time to go, girls.”

 

“Noooooo,” Bellie cried, “we’re dancing!”

 

“Party’s over,” Frankie said, looking pointedly at June.

 

“Okay,” June said, “let me say good-bye to Tec.”

 

Frankie and Kurt walked out the front door and into the humid night air of Broadway. “What happened in there? I went to find Bellie and you two looked like, well, you looked like you didn’t need any help.”

 

“Nothing happened. He’s just not…actually he’s exactly how I imagined. But sometimes the fantasy needs to stay a fantasy.”

 

“Oh,” Frankie said, looping her arm through Kurt’s and laying her head on his shoulder. There were many things to love about Frankie, but Kurt loved her ability to instinctively read a situation most of all.

 

June half-carried Bellie out the front door and onto the sidewalk. “Do we need to call an Uber?”

 

“It’s on the way,” Kurt said, “let’s go home.”


	3. Chapter Three

It had been five days, not that Kurt was counting. Each day that ticked by after the show felt like a mark in time, his life now catalogued as Before Blaine and After Blaine. Everyone in the office wanted to know, How did it go? What was he like? Was he so amazing? Kurt smiled and gushed and used words like magical and handsome and perfect. But he didn’t say everything. He didn’t talk about how his body temperature was still elevated and his pulse still quick. He didn’t talk about how he could still feel Blaine’s hands on his skin, Blaine’s breath in his hair. He didn’t talk about the song that Blaine sang…to him.

 

Kurt didn’t tell anyone that maybe he’d been wrong about Blaine. 

 

He kept replaying their conversation, going over and over every detail;  Blaine’s expression, his body language, the way he’d pressed into Kurt. He obsessed over his own fear, his tendency to jump to conclusions. The entire situation had been surreal from the start and Kurt hadn’t been able to find his footing. He never fully believed it was happening and didn’t know how to respond when it _was_ happening. But it didn’t matter now. It happened. It was over. He needed to move on.

 

 _But how do you move on from someone like Blaine Anderson?_ Kurt murmured to himself. It was Tuesday afternoon and Kurt was printing out cover options for a new artist meeting. An email came in saying he had a delivery at the front desk and needed to pick it up before end of business. Kurt texted his assistant, Spencer, to pick up it for him and leave it on his desk. It wasn’t until hours later, most of the office gone for the night, that he returned to his office to see a delicate square vase spilling over with red and yellow roses. Kurt’s arc lamp was the only light on in the room, casting a spotlight on the bouquet. Kurt sat down at his desk and pulled out the small card nestled inside the flowers. He read the message once and called Frankie.

 

“You’re calling me. Why are you calling me? Are you on your way home? Do you want to come over and drink wine? I need wine.”

 

“I’m still at the office.”

 

“Fuck, is there a glitch with the iTunes pre-sale because if so that is total bullshit. I checked and re-checked it with the NY office and everything was working when I left.”

 

“I’m looking at a dozen red and yellow roses,” Kurt said, his voice even.

 

“Is this some sort of riddle? You know I hate riddles. Get over here and drink wine with me.”

 

“They’re from Blaine.”

 

Frankie paused, her silent shock coming through loud and clear. “Blaine? Like BLAINE, Blaine?”

 

“Like Blaine, Blaine.” Kurt closed his eyes and leaned back as far as his ergonomic chair would allow.

 

“Okay, I’m guessing you mean that asshole prick from _Pretty In Pink_ who, yes, is a fictional character, but seems more likely to send you roses than Blaine Fucking Anderson who was a total douchebag little artist shit!”

 

“I’ve never seen that movie. And I never said Blaine was a douchebag.”

 

“You’ve been moping.”

 

“I have not.”

 

“Kurt, look down at your feet right now.” Kurt looked down and realized for the first time that day he was wearing his running shoes… _to the office_. “That dude messed with your head. Ever since whatever happened at Robert’s, and while I respect that you don’t want to talk about it but FUCKING TELL ME ALREADY OH MY GOD, you’ve been in some sort of funk and…wait, was there a card?”

 

“Of course there was a card, did you think I just _assumed_ Blaine Anderson sent me flowers? I saw the flowers, I read the card, I called you.”

 

“Read it to me.”

 

Kurt cleared his throat and held the card up, his eyes scanning over the slanted handwriting. He wondered briefly if Blaine had written it himself. “It says: _Kurt, You’ve been on my mind ever since we met. I deeply regret the way we left things at the bar that night and I’d love a chance to make it right._ Then it’s just signed with his name.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“First of all, how did he fit all of that on the tiny flower card?”

 

“The handwriting is really small,” Kurt said, turning the card over in his hand. “What the hell?”

 

“What? What now?”

 

Kurt stood up from his desk and walked to the window overlooking the gravel parking lot. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

 

“KURT! WHAT!”

 

“The back of the card, I just looked at it. There was a P.S. that said to look outside.”

 

“Outside? What the hell is outside?”

 

“There’s a limo idling in the parking lot.”

 

“Oh my god, KURT!? I saw that limo when I left today but I just assumed it was some fancy lawyer from that law firm on the first floor. I didn’t think anything of it IS HE IN THERE? IS HE IN THE LIMO LIKE SOME SORT OF TWISTED SCENE FROM _PRETTY WOMAN?_ ”

 

“Stop trying to make my life into a movie.”

 

“Kurt, why are you so calm about this? Every single thing you have said to me on this phone call has been fucking insane. Are you okay?”

 

Kurt laid his forehead against the window and looked down at the limo, backing away immediately when he realized maybe Blaine could see him. “I think maybe I was wrong about him.”

 

Frankie was quiet for a moment, thinking. “What do you want to do?”

 

“I…I don’t know. I want to give him a chance, I think, even though the flowers and the limo are bit…much. Why would he do this? He doesn’t even know me…we barely had a conversation.”

 

“But it’s Blaine.”

 

“Yes, that is the key issue in this scenario. It’s Blaine.”

 

“Well I’ll give him this, the guy is definitely making an effort. Isn’t that what you always say you want? Someone willing to make an effort? Yes, the flowers and the limo are borderline stalker but it seems like he’s trying. And like we just said, _it’s Blaine_ , Kurt, your dream guy. I get that this all seems too unlikely to be real but…he’s just a dude. Take a deep breath, change your shoes and go see what he has to say.”

 

“I can’t go home to-”

 

“Kurt Hummel, I know you keep a spare pair of Michael Kors boots in your bottom desk drawer. Put them on along with an unnecessary layer of hairspray in your perfect hair and go out there.”

 

Kurt walked over to his desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. There was a spare shirt, the boots and two cans of maximum hold hairspray. He smiled. “Have I told you today that you’re my favorite human?”

 

“Love you, too. Go get him.”

 

 

 

———————-

 

 

Kurt pushed open the heavy glass door leading out to the parking lot. The sun had just dipped below the Nashville skyline and there were only a couple of cars left in the parking lot along with the shiny, black limo idling near the door. Kurt walked toward the passenger door in the back and waited, nervous. Nothing happened. A moment turned into a minute and oh, god, what if he’d been wrong about this entire thing? What if Blaine wasn’t out here waiting for him? Now he looked like an idiot standing next to a limo waiting for nothing. 

 

The driver door opened, startling Kurt. “Are you Kurt Hummel?”

 

“Yes,” Kurt said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m afraid Mr. Anderson has fallen asleep.”

 

Kurt’s eyes widened. “How…how long have you been out here?”

 

The driver pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. “About five hours?”

 

Kurt’s chest tightened. “May I?” he said, gesturing to the door.

 

“Of course,” the driver said, opening the door for him.

 

Kurt slid inside, sitting close to the door. The limo was lit with low lights across the edges of the floor, casting Blaine in shadow. He was curled up on the seat, his head resting on a jacket next to the window. His lips were parted and his long eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks. His left arm was outstretched, his hand resting between his thighs and his right arm was draped over the door. He looked relaxed and peaceful and…beautiful. 

 

Kurt wasn’t sure what to do.  

 

“Blaine?” he said, so softly he barely heard it himself. Blaine didn’t stir. Kurt reached over, his hand hovering over Blaine’s shoulder. “Blaine?” He touched Blaine’s shoulder and gently shook him.

 

Blaine inhaled sharply and raised his thick eyebrows without opening his eyes. “I’m up, I’m up,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face and rolling his head from side to side. He opened his eyes and saw Kurt sitting there, his hand still raised over Blaine’s shoulder. “Oh. OH. Shit, hi! Oh my god, I fell asleep didn’t I? I’m so sorry, shit. I wanted to make this grand gesture and sweep you off your feet and fuck,” Blaine said, his voice going soft, “I screwed up again, didn't I.”

 

Kurt smiled and folded his hands in his lap. “No, you…what, uhh…what are you doing here?”

 

Blaine looked at him, his eyes wide and, if Kurt allowed himself to believe it, a little desperate. “After that night last week, the way you left, I just felt terrible. I realized I came on pretty strong and,” he bit his bottom lip and looked down at the leather seat between them, “you were right to leave. I was an asshole.” Blaine looked up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. It made him look younger, the usual sexy confidence replaced with a vulnerable smile.

 

“You weren’t,” Kurt said. He realized he meant it. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about that night, too.”

 

“You have?” Blaine shifted in his seat, half-turning his body towards Kurt. “I thought it might be too weird, showing up here unannounced. I guess I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted to see you.”

 

Kurt blushed, hiding his a smile behind his hand. “It is a bit overwhelming. How did you…” he shook his head, his shoulders raising in a question.

 

“Tec, my manager, he called your friend.”

 

“June,” Kurt said, under his breath.

 

“Right, June. She said you’d be in the office today and I had a few days off from the tour and…here I am.”

 

“Here you are,” Kurt said, his hand falling down onto the seat between them. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

 

“Don’t be, I’m the one who’s sorry. I totally misread the situation and came on too strong. And just to be super clear, I don’t view you as a conquest or some fan fuck. I don’t do that.”

 

Kurt quirked an eyebrow which made Blaine laugh.

 

“Okay, okay, I’ve done that…a few times. But it’s not who I am. Or…it’s not who I want to be.”

 

They fell into silence, each sneaking glances at the other

 

“So,” Kurt said, his voice cutting through the silence, “how _do_ you view me?”

 

Blaine laid his head on the headrest and sighed, reaching over to take Kurt’s hand. “Can I take you to dinner? We can talk about it?”

 

Kurt wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation but he couldn’t. His heart was racing and Blaine’s thumb was tracing a slow line up and down his hand and Blaine was looking at him, his eyes sincere and full of…want. Kurt looked back at him, willing himself to stay in the moment, to believe it was true.

 

_Yes, I will go to dinner with you and anywhere else you want. Yes, yes, yes. I want you and it seems like you might genuinely want me and I fear I may fly into orbit from how incredible this feels and how sweet your words are and how I want to crush my body into yours and die from amazing._

 

“Yes,” Kurt said.

 

“I’m so happy to hear you say that, you have no idea. I was so nervous to come here. I thought you’d blow me off for sure. But I hoped…I hoped you would say yes.” Blaine’s voice was quiet, reverent. Kurt could feel the words on his skin. “But, before we go to dinner…”

 

“But?”

 

“I have been in this limo all fucking day and I really have to pee.”

 

Kurt’s laugh burst out of him, bright and happy, filling the small space between them. “Come on, I’ll let you inside the office,” he said, opening the door and pulling Blaine by the hand.


	4. Chapter Four

“Shiiiiiit shit shit shit SHIT!” Kurt cursed, yanking on the door. “My key card. It’s on my desk. In my office.” He turned around and looked at Blaine, pointing above his head. “Up there.”

 

Blaine’s arms were crossed over his chest and he had one leg thrown across the other, swaying from side to side. “Kurt,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“Bar!” Kurt said, already running, “across the street!” Blaine followed closely behind as they ran through the gravel parking lot and around the corner to Clinton Street and William Collier’s bar. Blaine disappeared inside while Kurt waited on the sidewalk, reaching into his pocket to text Frankie an update. Only his phone wasn’t in his pocket. “Dammit,” he sighed, picturing his phone sitting on his desk…right next to his key card, wallet and car keys. He’d been so focused on getting to Blaine he’d forgotten every single other thing. 

 

Seemed like it was all he could think about since the show. Kurt’s mind was consumed with Blaine…his eyes and his hands and his voice and the way he moved and the way he…was walking towards him in a worn green v-neck and tight blue pants that left little to the imagination. And oh, how Kurt had imagined.

 

“Better?” Kurt said, lifting his eyes away from Blaine’s crotch, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

 

“Much.” Blaine was smiling up at Kurt through his eyelashes, flirting. “See something you like?”

 

He’d been caught. “I was just…admiring the cut of those pants. Are they designer?”

 

“Hell if I know. I have a stylist who dresses me when I’m on tour because my label doesn’t trust me to dress myself. And trust me, I _do_ know how to dress myself. When I was younger I was very dapper,” he said, adjusting an imaginary bow tie. 

 

“You. Dapper,” Kurt said, laughing. “That’s quite the image. I can’t imagine you wearing a bow tie.”

 

“I had an impressive collection, very prep-school chic. I used to gel my hair back, too.”

 

“Oh no, don’t do that. Your curls are gorgeous.” Kurt stopped himself from saying more, from saying how much he wanted to run his hands through those curls and bury his face in them.

 

They stood on the sidewalk smiling at each other, both shy and unsure. Kurt felt Blaine hesitating, waiting. It seemed like he was giving Kurt control, following his lead. “So,” Kurt said, his eyes on Blaine’s lips, “I’ve made a discovery.”

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“My keycard isn’t the only thing I left in my office.”

 

“Uh-oh,” Blaine laughed.

 

“Yeah, I’m afraid my phone, wallet and keys are also locked up safe and sound.” They were both laughing now, their arms crossed, mirroring each other while keeping a respectable distance. “I guess I was a little distracted.”

 

Blaine reached his hand up and scratched at the stubble on his cheeks, the stubble Kurt wanted to rub his face against. “Should I take you somewhere? Do you need to call someone?”

 

Kurt thought about it for a moment. “You could…uhhh.…,” he said, going for casual even though the tremor in his voice gave him away, “you could send your limo driver home and we could hang out here? Get some drinks? Food?”

 

Blaine looked towards the bar and back at Kurt. “Yes,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “that sounds perfect.”

 

Blaine texted the driver as they walked back into William Collier’s. Kurt led them through the maze of people and chairs to a small table in the back where they sat down, both instinctively angling their chairs closer to each other. Blaine leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, hands clasped together. Kurt looked across the bar but could feel Blaine’s eyes on him. He caught the eye of his assistant, Spencer who waved and gave him a thumbs up. Kurt smiled and glanced at Blaine. 

 

“Friend?” Blaine asked.

 

“My assistant,” Kurt said, waving to someone else a few tables over.

 

“You’re a popular guy.”

 

“No, no, nothing like that. A lot of people from my office come here after work…I should have considered that before suggesting it. We could go somewhere else?”

 

Thea from publishing walked by their table. “Hey, Kurt!” 

 

Kurt smiled and waved, looking back to Blaine. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I like seeing you in your element. So this bar’s a hangout for people at your label?”

 

“Cocktails are typically helpful when dealing with demanding artists. You know how that can be,” Kurt joked.

 

“Artists are the worst. Always making demands like, ‘Cancel my interviews for today. I’ve got to go to Nashville to see someone.’ Real pain in the ass.”

 

Kurt stared. “You…did you do that?”

 

Blaine stared back. “I did.”

 

“Well,” Kurt said, licking his lips and spinning the small strip of leather he wore around his wrist, “I’ll be sure and write them a thank you note for being so agreeable to your demands.”

 

“Kurt,” Blaine said, leaning in close, close enough to-

 

“Hey, Kurt, who’s your friend?”

 

Kurt looked up, startled. “Oh…hey, Calvin. This is-”

 

“Oh, I know,” Calvin said, reaching out to shake Blaine’s hand, “Hi, Blaine. I’m Calvin and I’m a huge, _huge_ fan.”

 

“Hi, Calvin,” Blaine said, shaking his hand a warm smile on his face, “it’s so nice to meet you.”

 

Calvin was Kurt’s favorite server at Williams Collier’s. He set his order pad and pen on the table and reached into his pocket. “Can I get a photo?”

 

“Calvin, no,” Kurt said, but Blaine was already standing and taking Calvin’s phone. Blaine pulled him in close and held the phone at arm’s length. “Say cheese!”

 

“Oh my god, thank you so much. You’re amazing,” Calvin gushed, looking at the photo and giggling, “so so amazing. Thank you so much! You’re so gorgeous! My friends are going. To. Die.”

 

“You’re most welcome, happy to cause the demise of any friend of yours.”

 

Once Calvin had taken their drink orders and thanked Blaine for the tenth time, Kurt turned to Blaine. “So. Here you are.”

 

Blaine smiled, shifting his weight in his chair, inching ever closer to Kurt but still not touching him. “Here I am.”

 

“Excuse me?” Kurt and Blaine looked up to see two girls with eager smiles and phones in their hands, “could we get a photo? We love you.”

 

“Sure,” Blaine said, standing once more and greeting the two girls. Kurt watched as he asked their names and introduced himself, as if they didn’t know him. He smiled with each girl, even laughing when one of them kissed him on the cheek as he took the photo. He thanked them and hugged them and sent them away. 

 

“Where were we?” Blaine said, sitting back down and facing Kurt. 

 

“Drinks!” Calvin was back, setting their drinks onto the table and lingering, winking at Blaine.

 

“Thank you, Calvin,” Kurt said, widening his eyes and hoping Calvin would catch the hint.

 

“Fine, I’m going,” Calvin pouted, “but I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

 

Kurt raised his gin and tonic to his lips and smiled at Blaine, taking a sip. “I can see that having a drink with Blaine Anderson means I have to share you.”

 

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up into perfect triangles over his honey hazel eyes. “Are you suggest-”

 

“Hi, Blaine Anderson?” A young guy with long hair over his eyes and the requisite cell phone in his hand was swaying next to their table.

 

“Hi, I’m Blaine, what’s your name?” Kurt watched Blaine talk, admiring his genuine interest and affable demeanor. Blaine was effortless and smooth, made everyone who approached him feel at ease. He looked them in the eye and asked them their names. Kurt was transfixed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, sitting back down after the fifth photo request, “this is a bit unusual.”

 

Kurt knew that was total bullshit, knew it would continue to happen the longer they sat there. He knew one of the things he liked about Blaine was the way he treated his fans. And what he knew most of all, what he knew deep in his bones - he wanted to be alone with Blaine.

 

“We shouldn’t have sent the limo away,” Kurt said, swallowing hard, “might be nice to go somewhere more…private?”

 

Blaine took a breath. “Is that what you want?”

 

“We could go to my apartment. I want you to…come. To my apartment.”

 

Blaine’s lips parted as he stared at Kurt’s mouth. “Okay.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

The short cab ride to Kurt’s apartment was filled with happy tension. Kurt pointed out various Nashville landmarks and Blaine appropriately oohh’d and aahh’d. Their hands rested next to each other on the seat but didn’t touch. Blaine paid the fare and Kurt thanked him. Kurt punched in the code to unlock the front door to his building and Blaine held the door open. It was all very polite, very cordial, very nice. And completely agonizing. 

 

Because Kurt didn’t want polite. He wanted to drag Blaine into his apartment and get his mouth and hands on him, strip Blaine bare and explore every inch. But he couldn’t. He’d been so self-righteous at the bar after the show. He would look like a complete asshole if he tried anything now. 

 

“Wait,” Blaine said, shaking Kurt from his thoughts. They were on the second flight of stairs that led up to Kurt’s third floor apartment. “Your keys!”

 

“My best friend lives across the hall and she has my spare. You’ve met her actually,” Kurt said, turning the corner to walk up the last flight of stairs. “She was with me at the show,” Kurt said, stopping in front of Frankie’s door and knocking. 

 

They heard some shuffling behind the door followed by a muffled shriek. Frankie opened the door with a smirk on her face. “Hello boys.”

 

“Oh yeah, I remember meeting you!” Blaine said, his goofy charm making Kurt’s cheeks burn. “Tell me your name again?”

 

“Frankie.”

 

“Frankie! That’s right…I’m Blaine,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

Frankie glanced at Kurt, a knowing look on her face. “It’s good to see you, too. What brings you to back to Nashville?”

 

Blaine lightly touched the small of Kurt’s back, the first touch since Kurt pulled him out of the limo. “I…we had…” he smiled at Kurt, “I came back to see Kurt.”

 

“Key!” Kurt shouted, the moment feeling like too much and not enough. “I left my keys at the office. I need my spare.”

 

Frankie grinned, looking at Blaine and back at Kurt. “I can see you do,” she said, grabbing Kurt’s key from a small, silver dish on her entry table. “Enjoy yourselves.”

 

“Good to see you, again,” Blaine waved as Frankie shut the door, laughing. “She seems cool.”

 

“She’s the best.” Kurt unlocked the door and invited Blaine inside. “Come on in. Do you want a drink? I’m not sure what I have.”

 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Blaine said, walking around the small living room and looking at Kurt’s photos and books. Kurt was in the kitchen opening two bottles of beer and saw Blaine pick up a black and silver frame form the shelf. _Shit_ , he mumbled to himself, _that’s just great._

 

“I’m afraid all I have is beer” he said, rounding the corner from the kitchen.

 

Blaine was holding up the frame, grinning. “You framed it.”

 

“June framed it. My friend June, you met her? She…framed it.” The photos from the VIP line had been posted the day after the show and Kurt had appropriately spiraled when he saw his photo with Blaine. Their arms were wrapped around each other and they both had wide, happy smiles. June framed it for him and he secretly loved it. Of course, he never imagined Blaine would see it. “I’m embarrassed.”

 

“Don’t be,” Blaine said, pulling out his phone, opening his photo album and clicking on the very same photo to show Kurt, “we look good together.” He had the photo on his phone. He had the photo of Kurt from the VIP line. He had it.

 

“How…?”

 

“I told you, Kurt, you made an impression on me that night. The second I saw you I thought my knees would give out. You were so…you _are …_ so beautiful, so…captivating.”

 

Kurt was standing in his apartment, holding two bottles of beer, hearing words that made no sense. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Blaine put the frame back on the shelf and moved to sit on the couch. “Come and sit with me.”

 

Kurt set the bottles down on the coffee table and sat down on the opposite side of the couch, his body turned toward Blaine.

 

“Come and _sit with me_ ,” Blaine said. They moved closer, together, Kurt’s heart pounding. Blaine slung his arm across the top of the couch and leaned in.

 

“Kurt, I realize this whole situation is weird and we don’t know each other and there’s a large possibility I look like a creep showing up here unannounced…with your photo in my phone.” Kurt laughed at that. “I want to be as clear as possible. I meet a lot of people…a lot. And I’ve never, not once, been so immediately taken with someone the way I was with you. I think that’s why I reacted the way I did at the bar after the show. I just…I wanted you.” He paused, taking several breaths and looking directly at Kurt. “I still do.”

 

And that was _it_.

 

Kurt climbed into Blaine’s lap and kissed him, hard. Blaine moaned into the kiss, grabbing Kurt’s hips and pulling him closer. Kurt bit Blaine’s bottom lip and licked it making Blaine moan louder. “Fuck, Kurt!”

 

“If you insist,” Kurt said, licking into Blaine’s mouth.

 

Blaine pulled at Kurt’s shirt, grabbing at the skin he could reach. He moved his hands up to unbutton Kurt’s shirt, their kisses growing more needy and desperate with each moan and touch. Kurt’s hands were in Blaine’s hair, on his face, his neck. He felt drunk, his body pulsing with want. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t reason, couldn’t do anything but kiss and lick and touch. Whatever was going to happen next was going to happen and he had no intention of stopping it.

 

Blaine got Kurt’s shirt open and ran his hands over Kurt’s chest. “Fucking stunning,” he breathed out, kissing Kurt’s shoulder.

 

“I want,” Kurt whined, pulling at Blaine’s shirt. Blaine sat up and lifted his arms over his head allowing Kurt to pull his t-shirt off. “God, look at you,” Kurt said, eyes wide. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if he looked too eager or too easy. He wanted. “More,” he said, kissing Blaine’s jaw, “I want more.”

 

Blaine grabbed him around the waist and stood up from the couch, holding Kurt firmly in his arms. Kurt nearly swooned, kissing Blaine again, wild and hungry. Blaine stumbled towards Kurt’s bedroom, holding Kurt up and taking everything Kurt was giving. They tumbled down onto the bed, their lips finding new places to kiss. “More,” Kurt said, reaching for Blaine’s pants, “more.” Together they shed every layer between them, remaining close, their bodies like magnets.

 

When they were both naked, Blaine pushed Kurt onto his back and hovered over him. His hungry eyes raked over Kurt’s body as his heavy cock hung between them. Blaine leaned down to kiss him, slow and sweet, lowering his body onto Kurt’s, their cocks sliding together.

 

“I want…I want…” Kurt couldn’t get the words out, didn’t know what he would say if he could.

 

“Tell me,” Blaine said, rolling their bodies together so they were side by side, legs tangled together, “tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

 

“I want…your mouth on me.”

 

“Oh god yes, YES, I want to do that,” Blaine said, kissing down Kurt’s chest. He took Kurt’s hard cock in hand and stroked him, kissing one hipbone and then the other. Kurt could feels Blaine’s heavy breath on him as Blaine kissed up the side of his cock before taking the head into his mouth. Kurt whimpered, one hand reaching down to hold Blaine’s head, the other holding on to the headboard above him. He opened his eyes to see Blaine looking back at him, his mouth full and stretched. “Fuck,” Kurt cursed, the image so raw and real he felt the room tilt. 

 

Blaine didn’t draw it out, sucking Kurt quick and hard. This wasn’t some candlelit romance, they were fucking. It’s what they both wanted. Needed. Kurt watched as Blaine’s dark curls bobbed and dipped between his splayed legs, watched his cock pump in and out of Blaine’s mouth.

 

“Come here,” Kurt said, his chest heaving, “come up here.” Kurt pulled Blaine up to meet him in a dirty kiss, their lips and tongues searching for more, always more.

 

“Like this,” Kurt said, reaching down to line their cocks up together, “I want you like this.”

 

The spit and sweat wasn’t enough but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t time. They rocked together, thrusting and pushing, their breath in each other’s mouths. 

 

“I wanted this,” Blaine said, his thrusts getting faster, his hands framing Kurt’s face, “the first moment I saw you, I…unnhhnn….I wanted this. I wanted to…ahhh fuck….lay you down and….shit, I’m gonna come…”

 

Kurt raised his head up to Blaine’s ear. “Do it, Blaine, come on me.”

 

Blaine tensed and came with a shout with Kurt following right behind him. They held each other through it, their pulsing cocks still rubbing against each other. “Oh god,” Kurt moaned, “oh my god.”

 

“Come out on the road with me,” Blaine said, his head buried in Kurt’s neck.

 

“What?”

 

Blaine lifted his head and looked Kurt in the eye. “I’ve got ten dates left on this tour. Come with me.”


	5. Chapter Five

They talked about it, the possibility of it, mouths and hands on each other, words between kisses and sighs. They talked about how crazy it was and how there’s no way they should do it while they touched and stroked, their bodies unwilling to part for the length of a conversation. They talked about the improbability of the entire situation and the absolute rightness of it all. They talked about everything. Anything. They talked about it while Blaine worked Kurt open, while Blaine whispered incredibly filthy things in Kurt’s ear, Kurt moaning _yes_ over and over. Then they stopped talking and fucked, face to face, their eyes never leaving each other, their hands clasped together. And then it was dawn.

 

“Holy shit, it’s morning,” Kurt said, bleary-eyed and hoarse, wrapped up in Blaine. He could feel him everywhere, Blaine’s hot skin and coarse hair and warm breath. Kurt felt raw. His voice was raw from talking, raw from fucking. His skin was raw. His nerves were raw. His asshole was raw.  He’d never felt so amazing.

 

“What day is it?” Blaine groaned, blinking into the sunlight streaming through the slats of the blinds.

 

“Wednesday?”

 

“Good, I have one more day before I have to leave,” Blaine sighed, burrowing deeper under the comforter and pulling Kurt with him.

 

“Oh my god, no. No more. I need a shower. And some Advil. And pancakes.”

 

As if on cue, Blaine’s stomach rumbled loud enough to send them both into fits of laughter. “Can we eat pancakes naked?”

 

“NO,” Kurt laughed, “we need to get out of this bed and wash ourselves clean of this night of unbridled lust and join the living. With pancakes. And coffee.”

 

“So that’s a yes?” Blaine was lying in the crook of Kurt’s arm looking up at him, his smile brighter than the sun. 

 

“Yes to what?” Kurt asked. But he knew the answer. He knew Blaine was serious about going on tour with him. He knew, even after one night with Blaine, he’d never be able to say no to him. 

 

“Come with me,” Blaine said, sitting up and hovering over Kurt, his wild hair and swollen lips making Kurt’s dick stir. “Come,” he said with a kiss, “with me.”

 

“If you recall, I did that several times last night.”

 

“Fine,” Blaine laughed, pulling back the covers and rolling off the bed, “make me wait.” Kurt watched him walk to the bathroom, his perfect ass on display. “But I’m going to convince you.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

“Kurt, what is this place?” They’d called a cab to take them to Hermitage Cafe, Kurt’s favorite breakfast place. Blaine took in the tiny structure with it’s dilapidated sign and outdated interior. “Is it sanitary?”

 

“This place is an institution,” Kurt said, pulling open the glass door. The bell over the doorway chimed. “Plus there’s little chance you’ll be recognized here.”

 

“Morning, Honey,” an older woman called from the behind the counter, “Coffee?”

 

“Morning, Mona. Two coffees please,” Kurt said as they sat down at a wobbly formica table, their red vinyl chairs scraping across the linoleum. 

 

Blaine took it all in - the fake ferns hanging from hooks in the ceiling, the bubbled ceiling that looked as if it would collapse at any moment, the framed, yellowed photos of country music stars lining the back wall, signatures faded from years in the sunlight.

 

“Hey you go, boys,” Mona chirped, setting down two cups of hot coffee. “What’ll ya have?”

 

“Pancakes,” Kurt smiled, “and bacon. And eggs. And hashbrowns.”

 

“Yes,” Blaine agreed.

 

“Comin’ right up!” Mona walked back behind the diner counter, her wide hips swaying in bedazzled jeans.

 

“I think it just hit me how incredibly hungry I am,” Blaine said, his palms flat against the tabletop. “You wore me out last night.” He was wearing one of Kurt’s t-shirts and the same tight, blue pants from the day before. His hair was still wet from the shower, a few dark curls drooping down on his forehead. Kurt stared, the realization that he was allowed to stare making the hairs on his neck stand up. “Do you need to go in to work after this?”

 

Kurt had been so focused on Blaine he’d completely forgotten about work. “Yes, god, yes I should. Especially if I’m going to try and take some days off. I’ll need to get things in order.”

 

Blaine’s eyes sparkled, a wide, close-lipped smile on his face. “Why would you be taking days off? Planning a vacation?”

 

“Not a vacation, exactly. I’ve recently been introduced to some genuinely mind-blowing sex and I may have to go out of town for a few days to get more of it.”

 

“Mind-blowing is an understatement. I don’t think I’ve ever-”

 

“Excuse me?” Kurt and Blaine looked up to see a middle-aged woman in a black pantsuit smiling down at them. “Are you Blaine Anderson?”

 

Blaine smiled and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Blaine. What’s your name?”

 

“Oh, hi,” she said, taking his hand into both of hers, “I am such a huge fan! I can’t believe you’re here. I had to be out of town during your show last week and was so disappointed to miss it.” She continued to shake his hand in hers, staring. “I’m Jill.”

 

“Hi, Jill, it’s nice to meet you.”

 

“I just can’t believe you’re here! You are my favorite singer, just amazing. I think you’re amazing.”

 

“That’s so nice, thank you!”

 

“Could I get a photo? Would you mind, terribly?”

 

“Not at all,” Blaine said, pushing his chair out to stand up but before he could, Jill plopped down into his lap.

 

“Just can’t believe this,” she said, angling her phone and throwing her arm around Blaine’s neck. “You know, you’re much sexier in person. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible but, wow.”

 

“Thank you. Good genes, I guess.”

 

“You’ve just made my day,” she said, and kissed Blaine on the cheek.

 

“You’re very welcome, it was nice to meet you, Jill.”

 

Kurt watched her walk to her car, shaking her head and looking at the photo on her phone. “God, I can’t take you anywhere,” he said, kicking at Blaine’s feet under the table.

 

Blaine laughed and reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hands. “Yeah, can’t believe anyone would do something like that. She’s probably the kind of person who would buy a VIP ticket just to meet me.”

 

“You absolute dick,” Kurt gasped, pulling his hands away, but they were both laughing.

 

The food arrived and conversation came to a halt as they devoured every last bite, both watching the other, sharing smiles between bites.

 

“I was wrong. You were right,” Blaine said, pushing his empty plate away. “This place is fucking incredible.”

 

“Never doubt me, Blaine Anderson, I wouldn’t lead you astray.”

 

Blaine paid the bill, Kurt’s wallet still locked inside his office, and they took the short walk up 2nd Avenue to BCA Records. They talked about what cities were coming up on Blaine’s tour and Kurt mentally catalogued everything that needed to be done if he was going to leave town. Blaine checked his phone and realized he’d forgot to inform his manager he was taking a Nashville detour.

 

“Fuck, I’m in trouble.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I forgot to tell my manager I was coming to see you. He’s been texting and calling me all night. He’s pissed.”

 

They turned the corner to Clinton Street and Kurt buzzed the front desk to let him in. They climbed the wide, wooden steps up to the third floor.

 

Blaine followed Kurt to his office, unnoticed by any of the staff. Kurt went straight to his desk and found everything just as he left it - his laptop open, his phone laying next to it. He bent down to pick up his bag and check for his wallet and keys when he felt strong hands on his waist.

 

“Hey, come here.”

 

“Blaine, we’re in my-”

 

Blaine cut him off with a scorching kiss, pulling their hips together and reaching around to grab Kurt’s ass with both hands. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Blaine whispered in his ear.

 

“Hey, guys,” Frankie said from the open doorway, “horny much?”

 

“Hey, Frankie,” Blaine smiled, as if he hadn’t just been busted feeling Kurt up in the middle of his office, “good to see you again!”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt said, stepping away from him and smoothing his hair back, “why don’t you stay here and call your manager. I’ve got to sort out a few things. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

“Sure thing,” Blaine said, smacking Kurt on the ass.

 

 

———————-

 

 

Kurt and Frankie were standing in the copy room just off the break room talking in loud whispers.

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kurt huffed.

 

“Kurt,” she said, her eyebrows arched over the top of her glasses, “I’m going to need you to start from the beginning.”

 

Kurt his bottom lip. Kurt shifted from one foot to the other. Kurt put his hands in his pockets.

 

“Okay, let me put this another way. What the ever-loving FUCK is Blaine Anderson doing in your office, IN THE MORNING, with his HANDS ON YOUR ASS and his TONGUE DOWN YOUR THROAT after you came to my apartment last night looking like you might FUCK EACH OTHER IN THE HALLWAY.”

 

“He asked me to go on tour with him.”

 

Frankie gasped and clutched her chest. “He…what?”

 

“He’s got ten dates left on his tour and he asked me to go with him.”

 

Frankie slid down the wall and sat down next to the ancient copier, her head on her bent knees.

 

“What should I do? You’re my best friend, tell me what to do.”

 

Frankie’s head whipped up, her eyes wide. She pulled on Kurt’s hands to get him to sit down on the floor with her. “Kurt,” she said, his hands on her knees and her hands on his, “you go.”

 

“But isn’t it all a little bit, I don’t know,” Kurt pulled his hands free and waved them around in the air, “nonsensical?”

 

“This is Blaine we’re talking about, your dream guy. And he wants you, Kurt, YOU. What the hell is your problem?”

 

Kurt sighed, his shoulders slumped. “It seems too good to be true.”

 

“Maybe it is, but don’t you want to find out? Listen, if it doesn’t work out you can still be the guy that Blaine Fucking Anderson sang to and flirted with and showed up to surprise you and,” she paused and grinned, “I’m assuming by the well-fucked expression on your face he had his way with you.”

 

“Stop,” Kurt said, hiding his smile behind his hands.

 

“Go. Go with him and fulfill a fantasy. Go and be everything you’ve ever wanted to be.”

 

Kurt closed his eyes. “I really, really want to.”

 

 

———————

 

 

“Chopsticks?”

 

“Always.”

 

They were back in Kurt’s apartment after a full day of calls and emails for Blaine (his manager was none-too-happy about his Nashville detour) and schedule re-arranging for Kurt. Kurt had happily agreed to Blaine’s invitation and Blaine had picked him up and swung him around the office. The rest of the day was spent planning travel and booking flights and kissing. So much kissing. They’d stopped to pick up take-out from Suzy Wong’s and were now curled up on the couch.

 

“So we’re really going to do this? You’re going to come out with me?”

 

Kurt smiled and pushed his toes underneath Blaine’s ass. “You’re sure you want me?”

 

Blaine’s smile slid from his face, a hungry expression in his eyes. He took Kurt’s take-out container, set it on the coffee table and climbed into his lap, his hands on Kurt’s neck. He stared into Kurt’s eyes, the intensity of it heating Kurt’s cheeks. 

 

“I want you,” Blaine said, the words dripping off his lips, his voice a hoarse whisper. He moved his hands down to Kurt’s chest, kneading and pushing against him. He moved in slow, watching Kurt, and kissed him, a drawn-out drag of lips and tongue. He tasted like spring rolls and a sweet undertone that was purely Blaine. “I want you so fucking much.”

 

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed Blaine in, his touch and his words and his overwhelming confidence in Kurt. In them. In this. He opened his eyes and looked into Blaine’s whiskey-brown eyes. “You can have me.”

 


	6. Chapter Six

_You’ve done this_ , Kurt told himself, following the neon green arrows on the floor marked “catering.” _You’ve been out with artists before. You know how this works, calm down._

 

It had been a rocky start. Their flight from Nashville to Tampa was delayed and Kurt lost his patience when the flight attendant made him check his bag. A summer storm blew in and the last half of the flight was a frightening hour of turbulence. The car was late picking them up at the airport which made Blaine late for dinner with a radio station. The band and crew were none-too-pleased about Blaine’s late arrival and no one seemed the least bit interested in meeting Kurt.

 

“All Access only,” a burly man in a black tour shirt barked at Kurt, blocking the door to catering.

 

“Oh, I don’t have…I just got here…I’m Blaine’s…” Kurt sighed. What should he say - boyfriend? Flavor of the month? Weekend fuck? He walked back down the hall to look for Blaine’s dressing room and what he hoped would be plenty of dressing room snacks. The further he walked, the more Kurt started to worry he _was_ justBlaine’s weekend fuck. No one seemed to care he was there, almost as if it happened enough for them not to notice and the crew was used to whatever new guy showed up. He tried to remember Frankie’s words - _Go with him and fulfill a fantasy. Go and be everything you’ve ever wanted to be._ He was so lost in thought he bumped right into Blaine’s manager.

 

“Kurt! Hey!” Tec said, hugging Kurt and slapping him a little too hard on the back. “So glad you made it!”

 

“Yeah, thanks, it’s good to see you again. We met in Nashville?”

 

“Oh, I remember it well. Someday we’ll have to go back to that honky tonk! It was a blast!”

 

“That would be fun. I wanted to say, I hope it’s okay that I’m here?”

 

“Of course it is!” Tec said, slinging an arm around Kurt and leading him back towards catering. “I know Blaine’s got that radio thing. You hungry?”

 

“That’s okay, I can just find some snacks in the dressing room. I don’t have a pass.”

 

Tec reached into his back pocket and pulled out an All Access lanyard with Kurt’s name printed across the bottom. “You do now!”

 

“Great, thanks,” Kurt said, slipping the pass over his head, “I’m not normally so disoriented backstage at a show. I got the feeling the crew isn’t too happy to see me?”

 

“Fuck the crew. Blaine wants you here, that’s the only thing that matters,” he said, walking again, his arm looped through Kurt’s. “Besides, it’s getting towards the end of tour and they’re tired and grouchy. But they’re also harmless. Now let’s go eat.”

 

“Okay,” Kurt smiled, “that sounds great.”

 

 

————————-

 

 

After the radio dinner Blaine had a fan meet and greet. Then the show. Then another fan meet and greet. Bus call was at 11:30pm and at 11:28pm Kurt was sitting on the bus, fidgeting. He started to wonder why he’d come out on tour with Blaine at all when so far he wasn’t spending any time with him. Sure, it was great to see the show again and watch Blaine in his element. This time he stood at the sound booth and watched Blaine make love to the crowd. He really was an incredible performer and Kurt got lost in it, lost in the music and the moment. But he was expecting more than a free show. He’d come on this trip to spend time with Blaine. 

 

At exactly 11:30 the tour manager, Cam, walked to the front lounge from the back of the bus to let the driver know everyone was accounted for and they could roll.

 

“Wait, what about Blaine?” Kurt asked.

 

“This is the crew bus. Blaine and the band are on a different bus.”

 

Kurt jumped off the leather couch, steadying himself as the bus lurched forward. “Wait, why didn’t you tell me that? I should be on Blaine’s bus. Can you let me off, please?”

 

“Sorry,” Cam sneered, “tight schedule. Gotta roll.”

 

There wasn’t anyone else in the front lounge. Everyone else had gone to their bunks or were hanging out in the back lounge. Kurt stepped forward to talk to the driver but the tour manager stopped him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Let me off,” Kurt demanded. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

 

“You got that right.”

 

Kurt stared at Cam, neither willing to back down.

 

“I’ll just text Blaine.”

 

“You do that,” Cam laughed, pushing past him and pulling out a refrigerated drawer full of beer underneath the leather couch. He pulled out a bottle and wiped the condensation on his shirt before twisting off the cap. “Let me know what he says.”

 

Kurt stomped back to his bunk (a top bunk, which he hated, the top bunks swayed back and forth more than the middle or bottom and made him nauseous) and climbed inside. Fighting back tears, he pulled out his phone and saw several missed texts from Blaine.

 

_11: 28pm from Blaine -  I’m sorry this is taking forever - almost done and we can finally be together! Meet you in my dressing room?_

 

_11:28pm from Blaine - also I miss you_

 

_11:28pm from Blaine - is that okay to say? cause I do._

 

Kurt chest tightened. And he suddenly wanted to kill Cam. With his bare hands. He called Blaine, and when he didn’t answer Kurt texted back.

 

_11:35pm from Kurt -  I don’t know what’s happening but I’m on the crew bus._

 

_11:35pm from Kurt - I didn’t realize there were two buses and the tour manager told me bus call was at 11:30. I knew you were busy so I got myself on and now…seems like you’re there and I’m here? Call me._

 

Five minutes later, Kurt’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.

 

“What the fuck, Kurt? You’re on the crew bus?”

 

“Yes,” Kurt sighed. “You were busy so I looked for Tec but he wasn’t around so I asked the tour manager what time bus call was. He said 11:30 and told me where the bus was parked. I didn’t realize there were two and when I asked him to stop and let me off…”

 

“I’m going to fix this. Let me call you right back.”

 

Blaine hung up before Kurt could respond. He called back exactly four minutes later.

 

“Hey,” Kurt said, emotion in his voice.

 

“I am so, so sorry about all of this. This is not at all how I wanted this trip to go. Today has been a massive clusterfuck from the word go and I hate it. I’m also fucking livid. I cannot BELIEVE Cam did this. He’s constantly pulling bullshit moves like this and I am done. When we get to Atlanta I’m firing his ass.”

 

“Good idea. Since tonight’s ruined. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“No. Hell no. We’re leaving now and I had Tec call your driver to pull over at the next truck stop. I’m coming to get you.”

 

“You are?” Kurt’s voice shook and a tear fell out of his eye and rolled down onto his pillow.

 

“Kurt, yes. You think I’d let us be apart for an entire night? I’m coming for you.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

Thirty minutes later the bus rolled to a stop at a truck stop off I-75. Kurt was waiting in the front lounge with his bag, Cam smirking across from him.

 

“Man, you must be a spectacular lay for him to make us stop. Do you charge for your services?”

 

Kurt glared at him. “I know we don’t know each other very well so I hope you take this in the spirit with which I mean it  - Fuck. You.”

 

Kurt opened the curtain that separated the driver’s area from the front lounge and climbed down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Blaine was on him before he could take a step.

 

“Kurt,” he said, engulfing him in a hug and kissing his cheek and ear and hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you all day and I’m sorry.”

 

Kurt held on, gripping Blaine as tight as he could. “You’re here now.”

 

Blaine pulled back to look at him. “Give me a second? I’d like to fire that asshole in person.”

 

“After you,” Kurt smiled, following Blaine back onto the bus.

 

“Cam!” Blaine shouted, rounding the corner to the front lounge.

 

Cam stood up and crossed his arms, his jaw set.

 

“The bullshit ends now. When we get to Atlanta, the runner will take you to the airport where you will board a flight home. You’re fired.”

 

Cam laughed. “Seriously? You’re going to fire me over some meaningless piece of ass?”

 

“No, I’m firing you because of how you treated Kurt, which is his name, and because you’re a shitty tour manager. We’re done.” Blaine turned to Kurt. “Let’s go.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

“Oh my god, Blaine,” Kurt said, his hand on the wall as the bus swayed and rocked down the interstate. “I’ve been on quite a few tour buses and I’ve never seen anything like this.”

 

Blaine’s bus was much like every other tour bus: front lounge with leather couches on either side, small table, kitchenette with a sink and small refrigerator, tiny bathroom, 12 bunks stacked three high. But instead of a back lounge with a wrap-around couch and flatscreen TV, Blaine’s bus had a private bedroom with a queen-sized bed. 

 

“What,” Blaine smiled, “did you think I’d bring you out on tour with me and make you sleep in a tiny top bunk that sways and makes you nauseous?”

 

Kurt laughed. “Yes. That’s exactly what I thought.”

 

“Nothing went how I wanted it to today,” Blaine said, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist, “but now that I’ve to you, I’m not letting you go.”

 

They kissed, a needed reconnection, with soft lips and happy sighs. The bus hit a pothole, knocking them both onto the bed, Blaine falling on top of Kurt.

 

“Nice move, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt laughed. 

 

“What, you think I have strategic knowledge of pothole locations in the southeast?”

 

“Maybe,” Kurt said, wrapping his legs around Blaine’s waist and pushing his hips up against Blaine. “Do you?”

 

Blaine smiled and traced his hand over Kurt’s chest. “A few years ago I had a premonition that I would meet a gorgeous man in Nashville. Since that day it’s been my mission to meet you and subsequently convince you to join me on tour. Then I planned for us to be in my bus, in my bedroom, at this exact time. I instructed my driver to hit that exact pothole at this exact time so that I could fall on top of you, my dick getting hard, and-” Blaine leaned down, his lips against Kurt’s ear, “fuck your tight little ass.”

 

Kurt turned his head and kissed Blaine, the sweetness gone, replaced by need and heat. They rolled together on the bed, their hands pulling at clothes and scratching at skin.

 

“Let me blow you,” Kurt moaned. “I want your cock in my mouth.”

 

“Fuck, yes.” Blaine laid back on the bed as Kurt scrambled to pull off his pants. 

 

“You’re not wearing underwear,” Kurt said, running his hands over the tops of Blaine’s thighs.

 

“I showered after the show and I knew I’d be with you later and, I don’t know, I just-”

 

His words were cut off as Kurt took him into his mouth. Kurt didn’t start slow, didn’t tease. He swallowed him whole and moaned, sucking and licking.

 

“Kurt, holy hell!”

 

It was then, Blaine’s legs splayed out across the bed, his cock buried in Kurt’s mouth and throat, the bus slammed on the brakes and sent them both hurling forward and off the bed.

 

“SHIT!”

 

“FUCK!”

 

“OH MY GOD DID I BITE YOU!”

 

“AHHHH!”

 

They were both in a crumpled ball up against the door, all limbs and tangled clothes and sore knees and elbows.

 

“You guys okay in there?” Tec was knocking on the door. “I heard screaming, and not the good kind.”

 

“Fine!” Blaine called out. “We’re fine!”

 

Kurt wanted to laugh but couldn’t. “Are we fine? I’m so sorry, Blaine, I think I bit you when the brakes hit? Are you okay?”

 

Blaine looked down to see his half-hard dick with small teeth marks around the middle.

 

“OH MY GOD,” Kurt shrieked. “OH MY GOD, BLAINE.”

 

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Blaine said, moving to stand up and pulling Kurt with him. “I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not fine! I bit your dick! Oh my GOD!” Kurt reached out to touch him and Blaine winced. 

 

“Maybe don’t touch it just yet.”

 

Kurt covered his face with his hands. “I am utterly humiliated.”

 

“Don’t be,” Blaine said, pulling back the comforter. “Now please get naked and come get in this bed with me. We can cuddle.”

 

Kurt obliged, making quick work of removing his clothes and sliding into bed next to Blaine, careful not to brush up against Blaine’s injured penis. “I’m sorry. I am so so-”

 

Blaine cut him off with a kiss. “This day was fucked from the start. Let’s just sleep. I want to hold you and I want to sleep. Everything will be better tomorrow.”

 

Kurt smiled and laid his head on Blaine’s chest. “I’m sorry I bit your dick.”

 

He felt Blaine laugh, the vibration humming across his cheek. “I’m sorry I was gone all day and then you ended up on the crew bus.”

 

Kurt raised his head and rested his chin on Blaine’s chest. “I sure do like you, Blaine Anderson.”

 

Blaine smiled and reached up to kiss him. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

 


	7. Chapter Seven

Kurt woke up disoriented, the low hum of the bus’s generator reminding him, oh, I’m on a bus. In a bed. Blaine’s bed. He opened his eyes to find a note left on the pillow. He smiled as he recognized the familiar slant of Blaine’s handwriting. 

 

_Radio interview this morning. A runner can take you to the hotel if you want to hang out there. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done and we can spend the day together._

_XO_

_Blaine_

 

Kurt giggled and traced the X and O with his fingers, a happy sigh on his lips. 

 

 

————————

 

 

Kurt made his way backstage and found the production office. There was an older, burly man sitting behind the desk wearing a black polo with the name “Rick” stitched on the front. 

 

“Hi, I’m Blaine’s friend, Kurt,” he said, waving and stepping into the office. “Blaine mentioned a runner could take me to the hotel?”

 

“And how is that my problem?” Rick growled.

 

“Umm, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction?”

 

Rick looked up from his laptop and scratched through his thick beard, staring at Kurt. He looked back at his laptop and mumbled to himself, “I do not get paid enough for this shit.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Find your own damn runner, Harem. I’ve got work to do.”

 

Kurt sat down in the chair next to the desk. “I’m sorry, what do you mean by Harem?”

 

Rick leaned back in his chair and shoved one hand inside the waistband on his jeans, the other hand scratching over his protruding belly. “Look Pretty Boy, I hate to burst your bubble. I’m sure you think you’re a special little thing and Blaine couldn’t help himself and had to invite you out onto the road but look, the rest of us have a lot of work to do. We can’t spend all of our time chasing after Blaine’s weekly conquests. There’s too many of you to keep track of so just figure it out. It’s not like you’re gonna be here long enough to matter.”

 

Kurt’s face fell with each harsh word. “But, he said-”

 

“I’m sure he did and hell, maybe he even meant it when he said it. And don’t get me wrong, Blaine’s a good guy. I like working for the dude, but he’s got a new guy in here every other day and I’m tired of babysitting.”

 

Kurt stood and brushed his trembling hands down the front of his pants. “I appreciate your time.”

 

Kurt walked out of the office and down the long hall, the heels of his boots echoing off the harsh concrete. He walked down the ramp to the back loading dock where the bus was parked. He thought about texting Blaine, thought about calling him, thought about going to the radio station to confront him in person. Instead, he started walking.

 

He walked down Peachtree Street, past the Center Stage Theater and the marquee with Darren’s name lit up in lights. There were a few groups of fangirls hanging around the front entrance, hoping for a glimpse of Blaine. They noticed Kurt’s backstage pass and whispered and pointed. He pulled the pass from around his neck and shoved it into his back pocket.

 

Atlanta was close enough to Nashville, maybe he’d rent a car and drive home. But the thought of being alone with his thoughts for four hours of interstate traffic made his stomach turn.

 

He fell for it, every touch and smooth word. Every flash of those hazel eyes. He believed Blaine thought he was special, that this wasn’t something he did every show, every tour. His chest felt tighter the further he walked. 

 

An hour later Kurt found himself in front of the Artmore Hotel on Peachtree. He went inside, a welcome relief from the early summer humidity, and found the hotel bar. He slid onto one of the white, leather stools and heard a friendly voice.

 

“Good afternoon, what can I get you?”

 

Kurt looked up to see a gorgeous, dark-skinned man with impeccable fashion sense smiling at him. “Is it afternoon already?”

 

“It’s almost noon.”

 

“Too early for whiskey?” Kurt asked, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

 

“Uh-oh. Looks like you had a bad night?”

 

Kurt laid his head down on the bar. “You could say that.”

 

The bar tender poured Kurt a shot of whiskey. “Here, drink this, and I’ll get you one of our famous grilled cheese sandwiches. How does that sound?”

 

Kurt sat up and attempted a smile. “That would be great, thanks.”

 

The bar tender left and Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket to see several missed texts from Blaine. He drank the shot, ignored the texts and called Frankie.

 

“Let me guess,” she said, not waiting for a hello, “you two idiots flew to Vegas and got gay married and you’re never coming home?”

 

Kurt sighed.

 

“Uh-oh, no gay wedding?”

 

“I’m afraid not.”

 

“Kurt, what happened?”

 

“Apparently I’m just one in a very, very long line of beautiful gay men who fell for his pretty words and even prettier mouth. God, his mouth. And his hands, oh fuck, his hands. And you literally wouldn’t believe the ass on that man. Is it any wonder I believed him.”

 

“Kurt.”

 

“But it wasn’t just that, you know? It was also his heart and the way he cared for me and the way his eyes scrunched up and disappeared when he laughed and holy shit I am so fucked.”

 

“Why are you referring to Blaine in the past tense?”

 

“Because it’s over.”

 

“Where are you right now?”

 

“In a hotel bar, in Atlanta.”

 

“And where’s Blaine?”

 

“At a radio interview.”

 

“And have you talked to him?”

 

Kurt sat up straight, his forehead scrunched into a frown. “What are you getting at.”

 

“What were hoping to get out of all this?”

 

Kurt was silent for a while, thinking, looking at his sad reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “I don’t know. I guess I just…I didn’t want to be just another dude he fucked, you know? I wanted it to mean something.”

 

“And what makes you think it didn’t?”

 

“This morning I was talking to a crew member and he told me. He said Blaine’s got guys out on the road all the time. Called me ‘Harem,’ like I was just another notch on Blaine’s bedpost.”

 

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound good. But have you talked to Blaine about it?”

 

“No, I just left. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m embarrassed that this meant so much to me. I should have known it was just a fling for him. I should have been okay with that.”

 

“Bullshit. You didn’t do anything wrong and you shouldn’t force yourself to be okay with something that makes you feel bad.”

 

The bar tender set a plate of food in front of Kurt and smiled. Kurt waved and thanked him.

 

“I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Talk to him. Be honest. If it turns out to be true and it’s not something you want, come home.”

 

Kurt exhaled and picked up a French fry. “I’m eating French fries.”

 

“Oh shit, it’s worse than I thought,” she said, “I haven’t seen you eat French fries in years. Talk to him Kurt. Hear him out. He deserves at least that.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

 

———————-

 

 

Two hours later Kurt was still sitting at the bar, most of his grilled cheese still sitting on the plate.

 

“Kurt, there you are!” He turned to see Blaine jogging towards him, a huge smile on his face. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” he said, leaning in to kiss Kurt’s cheek. “What happened to you?”

 

“How did you know I was here?”

 

“What do you mean? This is the hotel, right? Have you been here this whole time?”

 

“Oh, right, the hotel,” Kurt said, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed to clear my head.” Kurt’s expression was blank, his smile polite.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine said, sitting on the stool next to him, “what’s going on?”

 

Kurt took a breath and focused straight ahead. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say the words if he was looking at Blaine.

 

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come out here.”

 

“Is this about last night? Because, Kurt, that was an accident. I’m not mad. And the bite marks are gone! I’m fine!”

 

“No, it’s not that I… I got caught up in the moment, in you and,” Kurt glanced at Blaine, his wide eyes concerned and his full lips parted like he wanted to stop whatever was about to come out of Kurt’s mouth, “I thought it would be something different. And I was wrong. It’s not your fault.”

 

“Kurt, you’re freaking me out over here. What’s going on?”

 

Kurt turned his bar stool towards Blaine, their knees brushing together. “I’m a relationship guy.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“I convinced myself that’s what you wanted, too. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Blaine reached out to grab Kurt’s hand. “What makes you think that’s not what I want?”

 

“I know, Blaine. I know about your habit of bringing guys out on the road with you for a few days and then never seeing them again. And I’m not saying it’s wrong, I’m just can’t be that for you. I wish I could.”

 

“Kurt, I don’t understand where this is coming from?”

 

“I talked to your stage manager. He told me everything.”

 

“Told you what, exactly?”

 

Kurt stomach flipped at the expression on Blaine’s face. He seemed genuinely clueless to what he was about to confess. “That I’m just one of your conquests. That you do this all the time, invite guys like me to spend time with you only to replace them with someone new a few days later.”

 

Blaine’s head dropped down, his chin on his chest. “No, Kurt.” He looked up and grabbed Kurt’s arms, forcing Kurt to look him in the eye. “That is complete bullshit. Did Rick tell you that?”

 

Kurt’s eyes watered. “Yes.”

 

“Look at me,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand and pulling it to his chest. “Rick’s angry with me for firing Cam because now he has more work to do. He’s just trying to get back at me.”

 

“It’s okay, Blaine. I just thought this was something different than it is.”

 

Blaine moved his hands to Kurt’s face. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I will tell you what it is for me. I like you, Kurt. I like talking to you and spending time with you. I like your sense of humor and your sass and the way you turn your nose up when you think something is beneath you. And yes, I’m wildly attracted to you and think about your gorgeous naked self every single second I’m away from it.”

 

Kurt’s mouth cracked, the tiniest of smiles. Blaine kept talking.

 

“I want you to be here, just you, no one else. But I feel like I’m spending all of my time trying to convince you it’s true. I get why you don’t want to believe me. I,” Blaine pulled his hands away and crossed him arms over his chest, “I guess this is why it’s been hard for me to have a relationship since I started this whole thing. Yes, Kurt, I’ve dated a lot of guys. Not as many as you seem to think, but sure, a lot. But the main reason for that is because it’s been so difficult to find someone who understands my lifestyle, who can trust me.”

 

Kurt’s cheeks went red. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. 

 

“I want this, Kurt. You and me, I want it. But I need you to want it, too. I need you to trust in me, to believe that I mean what I say. There’s always going to be people who want to keep us apart, that’s the nature of the business I’m in.”

 

“I know that,” Kurt cut in, “I work with artists and…I know.”

 

“Then why is it so hard for you to believe in me? What more can I do?”

 

“Blaine,” Kurt said, the hurt look on Blaine’s face cutting right him, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so scared.”

 

Blaine stood up and pulled Kurt into a tight embrace, kissing his cheek and disregarding the curious looks from the other bar patrons.

 

“Maybe this trip was too much, maybe we jumped in too soon.” He pulled back to look at Kurt, a sad smile on his face. “I want you to stay, but I’ll understand if you can’t”

 

Kurt’s head hurt. He didn’t want to lose Blaine, never intended it to get so twisted and messed up. 

 

“I hate to say this,” Blaine said, “but I have to go. I’m late for soundcheck and I have an early meet and greet and a meeting with my booking agent. But I don’t want to walk away from this conversation without at least some resolution.”

 

“I, umm,” Kurt stammered, “I don’t know. I want to be with you, Blaine. But I feel like this is all too confusing, too much. I need to think about it.”

 

Blaine’s shoulders sagged. “Okay.”

 

“Blaine, I-”

 

“It’s okay, Kurt. I want you to be happy. I hope you can find a way to include me in that, but if not, I’ll understand. Good-bye.”

 

Blaine turned and walked out of the bar as Kurt slumped back onto the bar stool, completely dejected. He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. What was his problem? Why wasn’t he running after Blaine right this second? Why couldn’t he just believe Blaine and jump in with his whole heart?

 

“Hey, man,” the bar tender said, leaning over the bar to whisper to Kurt, “I don’t mean to intrude but, was that Blaine Anderson?”

 

Kurt shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

 

“And forgive me, but he was professing his feelings for you? And were you _rejecting_ him?”

 

Kurt looked up, a stunned expression on his face. “I wasn’t rejecting him!”

 

“Sure sounded like it to me,” the bar tender said, backing away from the bar and shaking his head.

 

 _Oh god_ , Kurt thought, as he pulled out his phone and called Frankie. She picked up after the first ring.

 

“I fucked up, oh my god, Frankie, I fucked up so badly! I have to get out of here,” he said, choking on his words, “I have to-”

 

“It’s okay, I’m half-way there.”

 

“What?”

 

“When you called earlier, I knew you were in trouble. I’m half-way to Atlanta. Stay put and I’ll come get you.”

 

Kurt smiled, the first real smile since he woke up that morning. “Have I told you today that you’re my favorite human?”

 

“Love you, too. Text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”


	8. Chapter Eight

It took 48 hours for Kurt to talk about it. When Frankie showed up in Atlanta they went to dinner and talked about everything, everything but what happened. Kurt drove her car back to Nashville while she slept in the passenger seat. And he thought about it. He thought about it the entire drive back. He thought about it on Saturday, walking through the farmer’s market and taking out the trash and at dinner with Bellie and June and Frankie. Bellie and June had both been busy with work projects and trips so neither of them were aware of Kurt’s exploits. But every time he caught Frankie’s eye, he knew she was thinking about it. And she knew he was thinking about it.

He thought it about in on Sunday, waking up alone in his bed that still smelled like Blaine even though he washed the sheets. Making coffee. Checking email. He thought about it so much his head ached. Then Sunday night he walked across the hall and knocked on Frankie’s door.

“Come in,” she shouted, not moving off the couch.

Kurt went inside and plopped himself down next to her. “I’m ready to talk about it.”

Frankie paused the TV and turned towards Kurt, tucking her legs underneath her. “I’m ready.”

Kurt laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. “I’m an asshole.”

Frankie laughed right out loud. “Duh. I thought we were going to talk about Blaine?”

“I was petrified,” he said, shaking his head, “I still am. It’s too much to believe that Blaine Anderson, Blaine Fucking Anderson, would want me. Not that I don’t think I’m fabulous because, clearly,” he said, gesturing to himself.

“Clearly.”

“But he’s so…larger than life. Magnanimous. Wanted, by everyone. To the point that women, knowing he’s gay, offer themselves to him. Like, sexually. Did I tell you that? A woman offered herself to him the night of the Nashville show.”

Frankie smiled, but didn’t say anything, making a motion with her hand for him to keep going.

“So it’s difficult, knowing who he is, and not just to me but to everyone. It’s hard to think about sharing him. It’s hard to think that I could be enough when he could have anyone he wanted. It’s hard to believe that he wants me. But. I believe him. I am choosing to believe him.”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘okay.’ I just made a speech! Don’t you have more to say?”

“I’m listening, remember?”

“Fine,” Kurt huffed. “I’ve thought about it. My brain hurts from thinking about it. And the conclusion I’ve come to is that he is the one person who hasn’t given me reason to doubt him. Members of his crew gave me reasons, the gluttony of fans wanting to meet him and do god knows what else gave me reasons, my own crippling disbelief gave me reasons, but he never did. He’s only ever been kind and honest and open. I mean, none of this would have ever happened if he hadn’t come to Nashville and pursued me. He did that.”

“He did.”

Kurt glared at her. “What? You’re saying you’ve known this the entire time and you’ve been waiting for me to figure it out because I’m slow and an idiot?”

“I did not say those words.”

“But you thought them.”

“I may have thought some version of them.”

Kurt laughed. “So what should I do now?”

Frankie uncurled her legs and stretched them out across the coffee table. “Not to be all Oprah on your ass, but what does your heart tell you?”

Kurt stretched his legs out beside her. “My heart tells me his next show is Wednesday night in Philadelphia.”

“Go on.”

“And I have Southwest points and a free rental from Avis.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I’m going to get him back.”

“Yes. Good. Now be quiet so I can watch my show.”

Kurt smiled and looped his arm through hers and laid his head on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, so softly he wasn’t sure she would hear it.

Frankie kissed the top of his head. “For the record, you’re not an asshole, you’re just in love.”

Kurt sat up so quickly he knocked Frankie’s glasses sideways. “WHAT.”

She smiled, adjusted her glasses and hit play.

 

———————

 

Kurt’s flight left on time and landed on time and his seat mate left him alone the entire flight. The attendant at the rental car desk was polite and checked him in quickly, even upgrading him from to a mid-size to a full-size. Kurt read back through his text conversation with Tec, making sure everything was in place. It was 5:00pm and Tec had arranged for Kurt to meet Blaine at 6:00pm. According to Google, the venue was 30 minutes away from the airport. He started the car.

But Kurt didn’t account for rush hour traffic. 

He arrived at the venue ten minutes late, flustered. He parked in the back, using his tour pass for access and walked up the ramp of the loading dock. He wore dark skinny jeans with his favorite weathered Marc Jacobs boots, a white oxford with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and a navy vest. He found the taped arrows on the floor marked “Dressing Room - Blaine Anderson” and followed them to the dressing room door.

Kurt paused, calming himself. His entire body was trembling. He moved to open the door when he heard Blaine’s voice on the other side. “What’s this appointment you set up? I thought you said it was at 6:00? You know I’ve got meet and greet in a few minutes.”

Kurt opened the door. 

Blaine’s back was to him, his hands clasped behind his head as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Kurt’s stomach clenched.

“Blaine,” he said, his voice shaking.

Blaine spun around, his mouth wide open. “Kurt?”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Tec said, walking out the door and closing it behind him.

Blaine lowered his arms and took a step towards Kurt but stopped himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we sit down?”

“No.”

“No?”

“What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms over his chest, resolute.

Shit, okay, Kurt thought, here we go.

“I’ve been an asshole.” Blaine didn’t say anything, didn’t move a muscle, his eyes intently on Kurt’s. “These last few days I realized how wrong I was, how I listened to all the wrong people. I listened to your shitty tour manager and your even shittier stage manager. I listened to my own insecurities and reservations and doubts. But the one person I didn’t listen to, the most important person, was you.”

Blaine uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Kurt kept talking.

“This whole time, this whole crazy scenario, you’ve done nothing but be honest about your feelings and your intent in pursuing me. It scared the shit out of me and it confused me and I…I didn’t know how to accept it. But that’s not your fault. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“And you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“Why?”  
“Because I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, in person, so you could see me and know how much I mean it. Because I can’t stand being apart from you. Because these last few days without you have been miserable. Because I miss your face and your voice and your laugh. Because I lo-” Kurt caught himself before he said the word. 

Blaine walked over to him then, wrapping his strong arms around him and laying his forehead against Kurt’s. “And you aren’t going to run?”

“No, I’m not.”

Then Blaine was on him, hands and lips and tongue. It was more than a kiss, it was a reunion, a declaration. Kurt was in and Blaine was in and they were doing this. 

“I missed you,” Blaine murmered, kissing Kurt’s ear. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you, too, Blaine, god….”

Blaine kissed him again, happy kisses filled with smiles and a few tears and something else that felt a lot like love.

Kurt heard someone clear his throat behind them. 

“I’m sorry to bust up this glorious reunion, especially since I’m incredibly happy it’s happening,” Tec said, “but it’s time to meet the VIP line.”

“Will you wait?” Blaine asked, nose to nose with Kurt, not wanting to separate any sooner than he had to.

“I’m here. I will be here. Im not going anywhere.”

 

———————-

 

Kurt stood in the sound booth next to Tec to watch the show. Blaine was on fire, flirting with the crowd and singing every song with more energy, more happiness, than Kurt had ever seen.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Tec shouted, “the last couple shows were torture without you. He was totally off his game.”

Kurt smiled, the idea that his presence (or lack of it) could affect Blaine so deeply. He felt a blush rush to his cheeks.

“Such a beautiful crowd in Philadelphia tonight!” Blaine shouted. “So beautiful, you make me wanna shake my ass,” he said, doing his trademark shimmy dance that sent the crowd into a screaming fit. Kurt laughed as Blaine shimmied around the stage, the band playing the opening chords to a familiar song. 

“Since you’re such a sexy crowd, and because I’m feeling so much love from this room,” Blaine said, looking directly at Kurt, “from you,” Kurt gulped, “I’d like to do a fun little cover for you. Can we do a fun cover?” The crowd roared as Blaine put on his electric guitar and started to play. “Dance with me sexy people! This is Shiver from Walk The Moon and I’m playing it for you,” he said, pointing to Kurt.

Kurt danced and shook his hips and smiled so hard his face ached. Blaine sang, his words dripping sex, sweat pouring down his neck. The falsetto in Blaine’s voice lit Kurt’s entire body on fire.

When Blaine got to the breakdown, he took his guitar off and grabbed the mic, moving to the very front of the stage. Everyone in the front row reached for him as he looked back at Kurt and sang the words, changing them in the moment.

Hey Kurt you’re dear to me  
Please check your clothing at the door  
And who you’re supposed to be  
You always leave me wanting more  
Hey Kurt you’re dear to me  
Shall we get intimate again  
Hey Kurt you’re dear to me

Kurt threw his arms over his head and danced, looking right back at Blaine.

Shall we get intimate again  
Shall we get intimate again  
Shall we get intimate again  
I think so I think so  
Shall we get intimate again  
Hey Kurt you’re dear to me

Kurt didn’t know if anyone in the audience noticed the change in lyrics and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that every scream was for Blaine, didn’t care that every single person in the building wanted Blaine. 

Blaine was his.

 

————————-

 

Kurt was waiting side stage when Blaine finished the encore. He came off stage and directly into Kurt’s arms, his shirt soaked with sweat, the taste of it on his lips. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’ve got another meet and greet but then I’m yours.”

“Good. I’ve got plans.”

Blaine smiled, raking his eyes over Kurt’s body and grabbing his hips to pull him close. He leaned in to whisper in Kurt’s ear, “You look fucking amazing.”

 

———————

 

It was after midnight when Blaine walked through the hotel room door. Tec had arranged for Blaine’s bus to stay in town and had also arranged for a room at the Four Seasons in downtown Philadelphia. Tec, Kurt thought, was the greatest manager to ever manage in the history of all things managers.

Blaine stopped short when he walked into the bedroom of the massive suite. Kurt was naked, lying back against the pillows, legs splayed out, stroking himself.

“Fuck,” Blaine said, mouth hanging open.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, pulling his t-shirt over his head and kicking his shoes off as he crawled onto the bed. “Kurt, look at you.”

Kurt continued to stroke himself, watching Blaine’s eyes take him in, watching his throat swallow, watching his hands reach out to touch. Blaine was hovering over him, not touching, just watching. “You are…the most amazing thing I’ve seen.”

“Come and touch me, Blaine. Kiss me and touch me and fuck me. I want you, I want you so much.”

Blaine scrambled to take his pants off and slid up next to Kurt. “I’m so glad you came back.”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

Blaine rolled onto Kurt, his cock already hard, and covered Kurt’s body with his own. “I was lost without you.”

Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. “I’m here. I’m right here. The only place I want to be is here with you,” he said, rolling the condom onto Blaine and pulling him closer.

“Wait, you’re not ready, I need to-”

“I’m ready,” Kurt said, squeezing his legs tighter around Blaine, pulling him closer still. “I’m ready for you.”

Blaine reached down to kiss him, his mouth against Kurt’s, his tongue against Kurt’s, a moan in his throat as he pushed inside. Kurt gasped and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders. 

“Fuck me, Blaine. I want to feel you inside me.”

Blaine’s head fell down onto Kurt’s shoulder as he moved against him, thrust inside him, their bodies rocking together in a perfect dance.

“Yes, Blaine, I-”

“Kurt, you’re so-”

“Uhhnnn, there, yes, Blaine-”

“Kurt, Kurt, Kurt-”

They kissed and held each other and loved. They loved with their bodies and their mouths and their eyes.

And when it was over, when they were sated, their breaths evened out, happy smiles on their face, Blaine ran his hand through Kurt’s hair and kissed his lips.

“There’s something I want to say to you. I wanted to say it earlier but I thought you wouldn’t hear me or believe me or…that you’d run.”

“Don’t say it ,Blaine, the answer is no, I will not bite your dick again. That was a one time thing.”

Blaine laughed, a loud, bright laugh that filled both the room and Kurt’s heart. 

“Noted. Dick biting is off the table.”

“I mean, maybe on your birthday, or Christmas, but other than that, I’m afraid it’s a no,” Kurt smiled.

“I love you.”

Kurt stopped smiling and bit his bottom lip, his eyes wide.

“And I know,” Blaine said, “I know that’s insane and we haven’t known each other very long and half that time we weren’t even together. But Kurt, I think I knew it the first moment I saw you. Since that moment, you’re all I can think about. When I’m with you I feel like I’m home. And god, that sounds so cheesy and I’m a songwriter for fuck’s sake, you’d think I could come up with something better than that. But it’s the truth. I love you. And you don’t have to love me back. I know this a lot and too soon and I know my life is insane and my schedule makes relationships impossible and fuck, Kurt, I’ve never said this to anyone before. I’ve never…never loved anyone before. But I love you, I do. And I want you here, with me, for as long as you’ll have me. Because without you I’m just-”

Kurt put his fingers against Blaine’s lips, stopping his speech. He replaced his fingers with his lips, kissing Blaine with his entire body, his entire self.

“I love you,” he said, pulling away only far enough to get the words out. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing Blaine again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was so much fun to write! Thank you so much to those of you who read and commented along the way - your kind words mean so much.


End file.
